s 


THE  DAUK 


By  the  same  author 
THE  SHADOW  MEN 

A  ROMANCE  OF  "BIG  BUSINESS" 


IN    THE    DARK 


BY 

DONALD    RICHBERG 


Author  of 
"  The  Shadow  Men  " 


CHICAGO 
FORBES  &  COMPANY 

1912 


COPYRIGHT,   1912,    BY 
FORBES  AND  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  THE  NIGHT  SHE  CAME 11 

II  How  SHE  CAME 22 

III  WHENCE  SHE  CAME 34 

IV  THE  NEXT  DAY 52 

V  ON  THE  STAIRS 86 

VI  ENTER,  THE  FAMILY 93 

VII  A  FOOTBALL  GAME 107 

VIII  SISTER  EDITH'S  AFFAIR 122 

IX  THE  FAMILY  RESCUE  LEAGUE 133 

X  THE  PLEASURES  OF  MEDDLING 153 

XI  GWENN 166 

XII  THE  DANCE  HALL 196 

XIII  A  DINNER  OF  REBUKE 221 

XIV  MELODRAMA  AT  WINKLER'S 238 

XV  DISGRACING  THE  FAMILY 251 

XVI  A  BUSY  MORNING 272 

XVII  THE  FILIBUSTER 288 

XVIII  GWENN  EXPLAINS                                                   .  296 


INTO  each  man's  life,  with  its  dull,  drab  days 
and  long  gray  years,  may  come  a  few  scarlet 
hours  .  .  .  wayside  hazards  of  adventurous 
living  or  one  glowing  epoch  when  man  and  maid 
stake  all  on  the  splendid  risk  of  love.  Into  my 
humdrum  life  there  came  a  woman,  fleeing  from 
a  dubious  past,  and  for  a  time  my  days  teemed 
with  venture  and  romance,  that  brought  into  the 
gloomy  streets  of  a  fog-hung  city  a  radiance  of 
the  joy  of  living  that — for  me — clings  to  them 
still. 


IN  THE  DARK 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   NIGHT    SHE    CAME 

THE  room  was  very  dark  and  still.  As  I  sat 
up  in  bed  I  could  hear  nothing  except  the 
creaking  of  the  window  shade.  Then,  from  a 
neighboring  yard  came  the  sharp  bark  of  a  dog, 
breaking  the  tense  silence  as  though  a  sudden 
warning  of  impending  danger.  I  raised  my 
hand  nervously  to  turn  on  the  electric  light  over 
my  head.  As  my  fingers  fumbled  along  the 
bracket,  seeking  for  the  switch,  a  hand  came  out 
of  the  blackness  and  seized  my  wrist.  My 
body  became  rigid.  My  arm  stiffened  and  be- 
came immovable.  I  stopped  breathing  and 
listened  for  the  breath  of  that  Other  One  in  the 
room.  I  could  not  hear  a  sound.  The  sus- 
pense became  intolerable.  Slowly  I  moved  my 

11 


IN  THE  DAEK 

hand  downward.  Then,  with  a  convulsive  burst 
of  energy,  I  tore  at  the  fingers  which  clasped 
my  arm.  Another  hand  came  out  of  the  black- 
ness and  seized  me  by  the  throat.  The  strug- 
gle for  mastery  commenced  in  the  silence  and  in 
the  dark. 

I  did  not  dare  to  cry  out  for  fear  of  arousing 
Her — that  soft-voiced  stranger,  sleeping  at  the 
other  end  of  the  apartment.  My  antagonist 
seemed  also  to  fear  noise.  He  fought  viciously 
but  without  a  word,  without  unnecessary  vio- 
lence. His  knee  pressed  into  my  chest.  His 
breath — at  least  he  breathed — he  was  human — 
his  breath  felt  hot  on  my  cheeks.  Slowly,  de- 
liberately he  gained  control  of  my  writhing 
muscles.  At  last  he  spoke : 

"Lie  still!    Or— " 

I  ceased  struggling. 

"My  name  is  Curlew,"  he  said.  "Do  you 
understand?" 

He  was  the  man  across  the  hall,  my  neighbor, 
whom,  in  six  months,  I  had  never  seen.  No,  I 
did  not  understand.  I  said  so. 

12 


THE  NIGHT  SHE  CAME 

He  laughed,  low  and  incredulously. 

"She  knows,"  he  said. 

"Who  is  she!"  said  I. 

"You  ought  to  know.  You  brought  her 
here. ' ' 

"I  do  not  know,"  I  whispered.  "What  is 
her  name?" 

He  laughed  again. 

"We  will  ask  her."  His  voice  shook,  as  if 
with  anger. 

"Don't  you  disturb  her,"  I  said  fiercely. 
"She  is  sick.  Leave  her  alone." 

A  terrible  dread  seized  me  that  this  violent 
man  would  arouse  her,  that  slender,  fainting 
woman  whom  I  had  half-carried  up  the  last, 
long  flight  of  stairs. 

"I  don't  know  you,"  I  whispered.  "I  don't 
know  her.  But  I  found  her — not  you — and 
you  leave  her  alone!" 

A  gust  of  wind  blew  the  curtain  aside  and  a 
bar  of  moonlight  fell  for  an  instant  across  the 
bed.  I  saw  a  gaunt,  bony  face  within  a  foot 
of  my  own.  Two  deep-set  gray  eyes  glared 

13 


IN  THE  DAEK 

at  me  and  then  slipped  back  into  the  shad- 
ows. 

"Where  did  you  find  her?"  he  asked  slowly. 

I  said  nothing. 

" Where  did  you  find  her?"  He  dug  his 
nails  into  my  imprisoned  arms. 

"You  have  no  right  to  ask,"  I  answered,  in 
desperation  trying  a  random  shot. 

His  grip  relaxed  in  a  momentary  shudder. 

"Then  you  know,"  he  whispered. 

"I  know  nothing."    Which  was  the  truth. 

Several  minutes  passed  without  a  word  from 
my  companion.  Then  he  spoke  rapidly. 

"If  I  turn  on  the  light,  will  you  promise  to 
lie  quiet?" 

"Yes." 

He  released  me  and  switched  on  the  light. 
Then  he  tiptoed  across  the  room,  closed  the 
door  and  the  open  window  and  drew  down  the 
shades  on  both  windows.  He  was  a  man  of 
unusual  size  and,  as  I  could  readily  testify, 
of  extraordinary  strength.  His  movements 
showed  the  alert  nervous  energy  of  an  athlete 

14 


THE  NIGHT  SHE  CAME 

in  training  but  his  strong  thoughtful  face  con- 
tradicted any  suggestion  that  he  might  be  a 
professional.  In  fact  my  first  guess  was  that 
he  was  a  mining  engineer,  whose  outdoor  work 
had  maintained  in  him  the  active  strength  of 
youth,  despite  his  apparent  age  of  at  least  forty 
years.  My  guess  proved  later  to  be  correct. 

"Mr.  Winston,"  he  said,  "I  have  led  a 
strange,  hard  life  but  there  has  not  been  much 
in  it  of  which  I'm  ashamed.  My  reason  for  be- 
ing here  to-night  is  entirely  honorable,  but  I 
didn't  dare  to  risk  a  conventional  effort  to  find 
out  what  I  must  know.  Understand  another 
thing,"  he  interjected  fiercely,  "I  don't  lie. 
I  may  not  tell  you  everything  but  what  I  say 
will  be  the  truth." 

"I  believe  you,"  I  answered  promptly,  for  I 
did. 

"That  woman  whom  you  brought  here  was, 
and  is,  very  dear  to  me — dearer  than  any- 
thing in  the  world.  Years  ago  I  lost  her,  lost 
every  trace  of  her  through  my  own  act.  De- 
tails don't  matter.  I  left  town  suddenly;  was 

15 


IN  THE  DAEK 

gone  for  some  years;  returned.  She  had  dis- 
appeared. I've  searched  for  her  everywhere. 
I  find  her  in  your  apartment.  How  does  she 
come  to  be  here ! ' ' 

"I  can't  give  you  any  information." 

His  face  lost  its  look  of  terrible  anxiety  and 
hardened  with  bitterness. 

"To  be  absolutely  candid,  I  know  almost 
nothing  about  her.  But  she  is  in  distress  for 
which  I'm  not  in  the  least  degree  responsible. 
Perhaps  you  are." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Then  why  didn't  you  ring  the  doorbell  and 
ask  for  her  early  this  evening?" 

"I'm  not  telling  you  all,"  he  said,  "but  I 
mean  her  no  harm." 

"You  haven't  acted  like  a  man  who  meant 
well  by  her." 

"You  know  more  than  you  pretend,"  he  ac- 
cused. "You  said  I  had  no  right  to  ask." 

"If  that  was  true,  then  you  are  not  going 
to  be  answered." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  one  thing,"  he  snarled, 
16 


THE  NIGHT  SHE  CAME 

raising  his  voice,  "if  you  won't  talk  I'll  have  to 
talk  to  her.  I  wanted  to  save  her  that  pain 
if — if — some  things  were  true." 

"Don't  you  dare  to  disturb  her,"  I  shouted. 
"She's  sick,  I  tell  you.  Let  her  alone." 

As  he  backed  slowly  toward  the  door  I  sat 
up  in  bed  and  shook  a  protesting  hand  at  him. 

"You  talk  about  caring  for  her!  Leave  her 
alone  until  to-morrow.  Let  her  sleep  in  peace." 

"And  find  her  gone  in  the  morning,"  he 
sneered,  "after  years  of  searching.  That's  not 
Jim  Curlew's  way.  I'll  see  her  now!" 

He  jerked  out  the  key  as  he  opened  the  door 
and  as  he  slammed  it  behind  him  I  heard  the 
lock  click.  I  sprang  across  the  room  and,  drag- 
ging open  a  bureau  drawer,  pulled  a  loaded 
revolver  from  its  hiding  place.  Luckily  a 
closet  in  my  room  had  been  built  as  a  passage- 
way to  the  little  hall  that  led  to  Her  room. 
Pushing  through  the  hanging  garments  I  tol- 
lowed  close  upon  Curlew.  The  door  was  open ! 

I  plunged  into  the  darkness,  pressed  the  light- 
switch  and  disclosed  the  blinking  Curlew  stand- 

17 


IN  THE  DAEK 

ing  in  the  center  of  the  room.  She  was  not 
there.  My  roving  glance  noted  the  disordered 
bed,  its  counterpane  turned  back  and  blankets 
rumpled,  where  She  had  evidently  lain  down 
fully  clad.  Poor  girl!  She  had  probably 
fallen  asleep  despite  her  nervous  fears  of  the 
house  of  a  stranger  and,  wakening  at  the  sound 
of  our  angry  voices,  fled  terror-stricken  from 
her  brief  refuge.  Would  she  have  left  a  word 
for  me  ?  There  was  a  little  pencil  by  the  candle 
on  the  table  at  the  head  of  the  bed.  A  white 
slip  near  it  caught  my  eye.  I  moved  toward 
it  cautiously. 

"She  must  have  heard  us,"  I  said  idly,  to 
distract  Curlew,  slipping  my  weapon  ostenta- 
tiously into  my  left  hand. 

"Yes,'*  he  answered  dully. 

My  hand  dropped  on  the  slip. 

"What's  that?"  he  demanded,  stepping  to- 
ward me.  Happily  the  bed  was  between  us. 

I  dropped  my  eyes  to  the  slip  and  read: 
"To-morrow  evening  eight  same  place." 

A  long  arm  reached  across  the  bed  and 
18 


THE  NIGHT  SHE  CAME 

gripped  my  left  wrist  putting  the  revolver  out 
of  service. 

"Give  me  that  note,"  said  Curlew,  "or 
by—" 

As  he  jerked  me  forward  I  had  just  sense 
enough  to  thrust  the  crumpled  paper  into  my 
mouth.  I  struck  out  wildly  with  my  right  hand. 
Curlew  seized  it  and,  utterly  disregarding  the 
menacing  weapon  in  my  left,  tore  the  clenched 
fingers  open.  I  swallowed  convulsively. 

"What  did  you  do  with  it?"  he  cried.  I 
stood  up  and,  feeling  safe  from  immediate  as- 
sault, grew  calmer. 

"Mr.  Curlew!"  I  said,  walking  away  a  step 
or  two,  "you  have  broken  into  my  home  and 
attacked  me  twice  within  the  last  half  hour. 
I  don't  know  what  it  means  or  if  you  think 
you  are  out  on  the  frontier,  but  I  know  that  the 
law  will  protect  me  if  I  shoot  you  down  and  I 
give  you  just  thirty  seconds  to  get  out." 

I  raised  the  revolver  and  I  meant  what  I 
said.  I  wouldn't  have  killed  him,  but  I  should 
have  shot  him  in  the  arm  or  leg  without  hesi- 

19 


IN  THE  DARK 

tation,  had  he  moved  toward  me.  With  a  curi- 
ous wandering  of  attention  I  speculated  as  to 
whether  a  bullet  would  go  through  and  break 
a  long  mirror  just  behind  him.  He  hesitated, 
flickering  glimpses  of  deep,  struggling  emo- 
tions quivering  through  his  harsh  features. 
Then  he  retreated.  Nothing  was  said  until  he 
turned  the  knob  of  the  front  door. 

"Mr.  Winston,"  he  almost  pleaded,  "this  is 
a  terrible  blow  to  me.  I  thought  I  had  found 
her.  I've  searched  so  long!  Won't  you  help 
me  to  see  her!  I'm  sorry  I  lost  control  of 
myself.  Of  course,  you're  quite  right.  But  I 
don 't  mean  her  any  harm. ' ' 

"If  I  should  ever  see  her  again,  of  course 
I'll  tell  her  about  you.  If  she  thinks  you  mean 
no  harm,  why  shouldn't  she  see  you?  I  know 
where  to  find  you." 

"But  she  may  have  been  deceived  about  me," 
he  answered.  ' '  She  may  think  I  've  done  some- 
thing I  haven't.  Don't  you  see?" 

"Yes,  I  understand."  The  man's  earnest- 
20 


THE  NIGHT  SHE  CAME 

ness  affected  me.  "I'll  tell  her  that  she  may 
be  mistaken — if  I  see  her." 

"Thank  you,"  he  said  simply.  "Let  me 
apologize  again  for  everything.  Good-night." 

My  first  thought  as  the  door  closed  behind 
him  was:  How  did  he  get  in?  The  unlocked 
door  upon  the  front  porch  was  the  immediate 
answer.  The  porch  being  common  to  both  he 
had  simply  walked  out  of  his  door,  stepped  over 
the  dividing  railing  and  entered  at  my  door. 
As  I  strolled  out  idly  across  this  porch  the 
lights  flashed  on  in  his  living  room.  I  glanced 
in  and  saw  him  walking  up  and  down,  hands 
clenched  and  face  distorted.  Now  and  then  he 
paused  and,  gripping  his  lined  forehead  with 
both  hands,  seemed  to  be  trying  to  press  a  bind- 
ing pain  from  his  temples.  The  man  was 
plainly  in  mental  agony.  He  looked  like  a  de- 
cent sort.  Perhaps  I  had  done  wrong.  I  went 
in  and  sat  down  before  the  cold  hearth  to  think 
it  over. 


21 


CHAPTER  II 

HOW   SHE   CAME 

IN  the  first  place  I  had  encountered  Her 
through  purest  chance.  As  my  sister,  who 
lived  with  me  and  attended  to  the  domestic  de- 
tails of  my  humdrum  existence,  was  in  the  East, 
visiting  friends,  I  had  dined  late  at  the  Club 
after  a  hard  day  at  the  office.  Feeling  fagged 
and  yet  sleepless  I  left  the  suburban  train  at 
a  distant  station  so  as  to  enjoy  a  roundabout 
walk  through  the  park.  Striding  briskly  along 
an  unfrequented  path  I  noticed  casually  on  a 
bench,  almost  invisible  in  the  shadows,  the 
drooping  figure  of  a  woman.  I  had  passed  on 
but  a  few  steps  when  a  dull  thud  brought  me  up 
short  and  turning  back  I  saw  that  the  slender 
form  had  slipped  from  its  resting  place.  With 
a  momentary  wish  that  it  was  not  a  mere  dis- 

22 


HOW  SHE  CAME 

gristing  " drunk,"  followed  by  a  fervent  hope 
that  it  was  nothing  more  serious,  I  hurried  to 
the  woman's  aid.  She  struggled  to  her  knees 
as  I  put  my  hands  under  her  shoulders  and 
whispered  something  about,  "all  right — " 
"sorry — "  Her  voice  shook  but  there  was  no 
intoxicated  blur  in  the  words  and  I  helped  her 
back  to  a  sitting  posture  on  the  bench  with 
mingled  relief  and  pity. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  I  said,  after  a  mo- 
ment's silence.  "Can  I  help  you  in  any  way?" 

I  could  barely  see  her  face  in  the  dim  light, 
but  her  dull  eyes  suddenly  glistened  with  tears. 
She  tried  to  speak  several  times  before  I  caught 
the  faint  whisper,  "No  food." 

For  one  discreditable  moment  some  recollec- 
tion flashed  across  of  the  "starving  game" 
worked  by  unscrupulous  women  on  impression- 
able men.  Then  decent  common  sense  re- 
turned. No  fraud  would  choose  such  a  lone- 
some pathway  and  I  didn  't  believe  anyone  could 
act  such  a  part  with  the  terrible  effectiveness 
of  this  woman. 

23 


IN  THE  DAEK 


"Do  you  think  you  could  walk?"  I  asked. 

"I'll  try,"  she  said  bravely.  Then  she 
added  vaguely — "why?" 

""We  must  get  where  there's  food,"  I  said 
with  attempted  cheeriness. 

For  a  moment  I  thought  she  was  going  to 
faint,  then  she  stiffened  her  neck  and  rose  un- 
steadily. 

"Excuse  me,"  I  murmured,  slipping  an  arm 
under  her  shoulders.  Then  I  remembered  my 
first  thought  on  touching  her.  Her  arms  were 
like  thin  cloth  hung  on  strips  of  cardboard.  I 
almost  feared  to  lift  her  up.  It  seemed  that 
she  would  bend  and  break  under  the  strain. 

We  walked  very  slowly  and  without  exchang- 
ing a  word  along  the  winding  path  until  we 
emerged  from  the  park  on  the  street  that  led 
to  my  house.  Then  she  paused  a  moment  and 
raising  her  drooping  head  with  obvious  effort 
she  asked : 

"Where  are  you  taking  me?" 

"I'm  perfectly  willing  to  take  you  anywhere 
you  wish,"  I  answered  in  some  embarrassment, 

24 


HOW  SHE  CAME 

"but  I  think  a  public  restaurant  would — well 
it  wouldn't  be  comfortable — for  you,  I  mean. 
I  should  like  to  have  you  come  with  me  to  my 
house.  Unfortunately  my  sister  is  away — I'm 
all  alone — it  may  seem  unusual  to  ask  you — 
but  this  whole  situation  is  a  bit  unusual.  Do 
you  mind?" 

She  looked  at  me  unsteadily  for  a  moment 
with  pitiful  eyes  that  strove  so  hard  to  be  brave. 
Then  she  touched  my  arm  ever  so  lightly  with 
a  shaking  hand  and  half  whispered : 

"If  you  are  all  alone,  and  will  understand 
— I  think  you  do — I'll  go!  I  couldn't  meet  a 
woman ! ' ' 

"There's  not  even  a  servant  there,"  I  said. 
"And  I  do  understand.  I  hope  that  you  un- 
derstand me  also." 

Neither  on  the  poorly  lighted  street,  nor  in 
the  glaring  hall  of  the  apartment  building  did 
I  meet  even  a  casual  acquaintance,  for  which 
good  fortune  we  smiled  feebly  at  each  other 
as  we  faced  the  long  stairway  that  led  to  my 
third-floor  rooms.  On  the  first  landing  she 

25 


IN  THE  DARK 

swayed  perceptibly.  I  suppose  I  unconsciously 
hastened  her  in  shamefaced  fear  of  an  en- 
counter with  a  neighbor,  who,  neighborlike, 
would  be  sure  to  misunderstand.  Without 
giving  time  for  protest  I  slipped  my  arm  down 
to  her  yielding  waist  and  practically  carried 
her  unassisted  the  balance  of  the  way.  A  flit- 
ting shade  of  terror  crossed  her  face  but  I 
silenced  a  half-formed  remonstrance  with  a 
most  businesslike,  "Please!"  Once  inside  the 
hall  door  I  released  my  hold  and  she  followed 
me  with  uncertain  steps  into  the  living  room 
where  I  set  to  work  immediately  to  make  the 
place  comfortable.  I  purposely  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  her  until  I  had  lit  the  lamps,  stuffed 
kindling  and  paper  into  the  fireplace,  and  drawn 
a  heavy,  padded  chair  up  in  front  of  the  strug- 
gling blaze.  Then  I  said,  rather  brusquely: 

"Now,  please  make  yourself  as  comfortable 
as  you  can  while  I  investigate  the  kitchen  re- 
sources.'* 

She  was  standing  near  the  doorway,  support- 
ing herself  with  one  arm  thrown  across  the 

26 


HOW  SHE  CAME 

back  of  a  chair.  She  was  peering  perplexedly 
around  the  room,  evidently  trying  to  appraise 
its  owner's  character  from  his  surroundings 
and  at  the  same  time  striving  to  adjust  her 
own  presence  there  with  her  usual  notions  of 
the  fitness  of  things.  So  absorbed  was  she  in 
forcing  her  dulled  senses  to  the  task  that  she 
failed  utterly  to  hear  me  and  as  her  roaming 
glance  chanced  to  focus  on  my  expectant  face 
the  color  rushed  into  her  thin  cheeks  and  she 
closed  her  eyes  in  complete  and  charming  con- 
fusion. 

"Please" — she  stammered. 

"Please — sit  down,"  I  finished  her  phrase. 
"I'll  return  immediately,"  and  I  tramped  out 
to  the  kitchen  in  equal  embarrassment. 

For  the  first  time  I  realized  that  in  honestly 
offering  sympathetic  aid  to  an  unknown  and 
unseen  person  I  had  incidentally  achieved  a 
sudden  intimacy  with  a  most  attractive  woman. 
Even  romantic  interest  would  not  invest  her 
with  beauty.  She  could  not  be  fairly  described 
as  pretty.  But  she  had  a  wistful  sweetness  in 

27 


IN  THE  DARK 

her  delicate  features,  a  soft,  fragile  appear- 
ance and  truly  lovely,  deep-set  gray  eyes  that 
gazed  upon  all  things  with  vague  wonderment. 
The  result  of  my  first  exploring  look  was  an 
immediate  disturbing  sense  of  appeal  that 
stirred  the  male  desire  to  comfort  and  befriend 
— an  ambition,  born  perhaps  in  a  wish  to  rule 
that  speedily  becomes  a  desire  to  serve.  I 
cursed  myself  as  a  susceptible  ass  and  kicked 
open  the  pantry  door. 

From  the  pleasant  disorder  to  which  I  had 
soon  reduced  my  sister's  neatly  concealed  food 
supplies,  I  extracted  a  can  of  string  beans,  a 
jar  of  preserves,  bread,  butter,  cold  meat — 
in  short  enough  viands  for  a  small  gang  of 
harvesters.  These  I  arranged  in  unappetizing 
confusion  upon  a  large  Japanese  tray,  added  a 
few  utensils  and,  in  a  moment  of  happy  thought, 
a  glass  of  water,  and  bore  triumphantly  into 
the  front  room. 

My  visitor  had  removed  her  hat,  a  simple 
thing  of  blue  felt,  ornamented  with  a  single 
drooping  feather  of  the  same  shade,  and  was 

28 


HOW  SHE  CAME 

leaning  back  in  the  big  chair,  her  thin-soled, 
muddy  little  shoes  thrust  toward  the  warming 
logs.  Her  hair — in  its  well-ordered  confusion 
dispelling  cynical  doubts  as  to  its  origin — was 
brushed  back  loosely  from  the  forehead,  and 
the  firelight  wove  into  the  rich  brown  masses 
glints  of  copper  fire  that  melted  my  carefully 
congealed  attitude  in  one  glowing  moment. 

"Oh,  it's  so  comfortable,"  she  murmured, 
looking  up  in  lazy  content.  "What  a  lot  of 
trouble  you've  taken!" 

She  started  to  rise. 

"Now  you  stay  right  where  you  are,"  I  com- 
manded with  deceptive  brusqueness.  I  put  the 
tray  on  a  small  side  table  and  dragged  the  whole 
affair  clumsily  across  the  room. 

"Bemember,"  I  advised,  "the  doctors  say 
one  must  eat  very  little  and  very  slowly  after 
— going  without  food  for  a  time.  I  didn't  know 
what  you  would  like,  so  I  brought  all  this  stuff 
in,  but  you  mustn't  eat  very  much  of  it.  By 
George!  I  forgot.  You  ought  to  have  some 
coffee,  the  first  thing — something  hot.  Just 

29 


IN  THE  DARK 

peck  at  these  while  I  make  some  coffee.  I  can 
recommend  my  coffee." 

Chattering  absurdly,  I  overbore  her  remon- 
strances and  hurried  out  of  the  room.  It  was 
really  lucky  I  had  forgotten  the  coffee.  I 
couldn't  have  stayed  and  watched  her  eat. 
When  I  saw  her  eyes  glitter  and  her  thin  little 
hands  actually  shaking  in  nervous  anticipa- 
tion, a  lump  came  right  up  in  my  throat  and 
a  foolish  sort  of  prickly  feeling  in  the  back  of 
my  eyes  and — well,  I  simply  had  to  leave  the 
room. 

When  I  came  back  with  the  coffee  and  with, 
I  hoped,  a  certain  feeble  self-control,  she  was 
eating  cold  tongue  and  buttered  bread  as 
though  it  were  grilled  prairie  chicken  on  toast. 

"One  lump  or  two?"  I  inquired.  j 

"Just  one,"  she  said,  with  dainty  decisive- 
ness. 

And  I  loved  the  way  she  said  it.  Sounds 
silly.  But  I  did.  There  was  no  use  deceiving 
myself.  If  I  deceived  myself  I  would  be  caught 

30 


HOW  SHE  CAME 

off  guard  and  surely  do  or  say  something  in- 
excusable. So  I  said  to  myself  frankly: 
"Look  here,  Winston,  the  romantic  element  of 
this  thing  has  got  into  your  blood.  It  has  in- 
toxicated you.  You're  falling  in  love  with  an 
absolutely  unknown  girl  at  the  rate  of  three 
hundred  feet  a  second.  The  affair  isn't  as 
deep  as  you  think  it  is  now,  and  if  you  don't 
get  hold  of  your  boot  straps  and  pull  back 
— you're  going  to  hit  bottom  suddenly  with  a 
crash.  Now  hang  on,  old  man."  So  I  hung 
on.  But  I  knew  I  was  falling  just  the  same. 
The  boot  straps  simply  gave  me  a  feeling  of 
self-control.  I  didn't  really  have  any  inhibi- 
tions except  inherited  instincts,  inbred  conven- 
tionalities and  fear — fear  that  I  might  offend 
— and  for  that  fear  I  was  truly  grateful,  for 
the  other  protections  were  like  tissue-paper 
screens.  They  helped  keep  me  cool  but  if  the 
flames  ever  touched  them,  they  were  gone! 

Of  course,  I  must  have  given  myself  away, 
a  little.    Now  and  then  she  glanced  at  me  in 

31 


IN  THE  DAKK 

a  troubled  way.  But,  womanlike,  she  felt  her 
power  to  check  as  well  as  to  inspire  and,  woman- 
like, feeling  secure,  she  enjoyed  a  sense  of  risk. 

We  talked  very  little,  but  when  she  finally 
laid  her  knife  and  fork  primly  across  her  plate 
and  leaned  back  with  a  little  sigh  of  comfort, 
I  was  loathe  to  stir. 

"It  was  so  nice!"  she  said  softly,  as  I  picked 
up  the  tray.  "I  feel  so  warm  and  drowsy. " 
And  indeed  when  I  returned  a  few  minutes 
later  from  the  kitchen  she  was  curled  up  in 
the  big  chair  sound  asleep. 

I  moved  softly  around  the  room,  possessed 
myself  of  a  magazine,  after  a  moment's  thought 
rejected  a  cigar,  and  sat  down  by  the  larger 
lamp  to  read.  But  every  now  and  then  my 
eyes  strayed  to  the  relaxed,  slender  form  in  the 
padded  chair.  Poor  little  weary  woman  from 
nowhere,  who  had  slipped  into  the  circle  of  my 
firelight  from  the  vague  World  Outside.  I 
wondered  curiously  what  misfortunes  had 
brought  her  to  the  bench  in  the  park.  From 
where  had  she  come?  Then,  a  more  disquiet- 

32 


HOW  SHE  CAME 

ing  thought,  where  was  she  going!  Why 
should  she  go?  Yes,  of  course,  she  must  go. 
But,  where?  Certainly  not  into  that  vague 
World  Outside.  That  would  never  do. 


33 


CHAPTER  in 

WHENCE   SHE   CAME 

IT  must  have  been  nearly  eleven  o  'clock  when, 
glancing  up  from  my  magazine,  I  found  her 
looking  at  me,  her  gray  eyes  wide  with  won- 
dering uncertainty. 

1  'Oh,  I  forgot,"  she  said.  "I  must  have 
fallen  asleep."  She  stood  up,  leaning  un- 
steadily on  the  chair.  "I  must  go." 

"Where?" 

"Home,"  the  words  came  slowly.  "It  must 
be  very  late. ' ' 

"Wait,"  I  said;  "I'll  call  a  cab." 

"No,  no,"  she  protested. 

Of  course  it  was  plain  that  a  girl  found  half- 
starved  in  the  park  at  night  had  no  "home"  to 
which  she  was  willing  or  likely  to  go.  She  had 
volunteered  no  explanation  and  I  disliked  to 
ask  for  one.  But  one  meal  and  a  few  hours 

34 


WHENCE  SHE  CAME 

by  the  fire  could  only  be  delaying  the  time  when 
someone  must  help  her.  Why  should  not  I? 
Why  not  now? 

"The  fact  is,"  I  said  bluntly,  "that  you 
really  don't  wish  to  go  anywhere  in  particular. 
But  you  think  you  ought  not  to  stay  here. 
Won't  you  tell  me  what  the  trouble  is?  Some- 
thing temporary,  I  suppose.  Can't  I  help  you 
tide  it  over!" 

She  swayed  indecisively  for  a  moment,  her 
eyes  closed  and  forehead  puckered.  Then  she 
sat  down  again  in  the  deep  chair  and,  leaning 
forward  earnestly,  told  me  a  little  of  her  story. 

"I  can't  explain  everything,"  she  said, 
"but  I  would  like  you  to  know  why  you  found 
me  there  and  why  I  let  you  bring  me  here.  I 
came  to  Chicago  only  two  years  ago  to  act  as 
private  secretary  to  a  man,  whom  I  had  known 
before.  I'll  call  him  Smith.  He  was  an  old 
friend  of  the  family  and  when  circumstances 
forced  me  to  get  work  he  offered  me  this  posi- 
tion. For  reasons  connected  with  other  people 
I  did  not  care  for  acquaintances.  I've  lived 

35 


IN  THE  DARK 

very  much  alone  in  a  boarding  house  down  on 
Indiana  Avenue  near  Twentieth  Street.  I 
haven't  really  a  friend  in  town,  but  I  don't  mind 
playing  around  by  myself,  so  I've  been  quite 
comfortable.  Only,  you  see,  I've  no  one  to  ap- 
peal to  in  time  of  trouble." 

"That  seems  to  be  the  way  of  the  world," 
I  said  sententiously  as  she  paused.  "If  we 
deny  the  world  when  we  are  self-sufficient;  the 
world  denies  us  in  the  day  of  our  insufficiency." 

"Solemn  thought,  isn't  it?"  she  replied 
politely,  but  with  suppressed  amusement. 
Then  she  added  more  seriously:  "It's  been 
bitterly  true  in  my  case. 

"About  two  weeks  ago  a  big  change  was 
made  in  Mr.  Smith's  business.  The  Chicago 
office  was  given  up  and  Mr.  Smith  sent  out 
to  California  to  open  up  a  branch  there;  the 
main  office  is  in  New  York.  He  had  very  little 
time  in  which  to  arrange  matters  here  as  the 
change  was  decided  upon  suddenly  after 
several  weeks  of  discussion.  Nevertheless  he 
made  arrangements  for  me  to  take  a  position 

36 


WHENCE  SHE  CAME 

with — well,  a  big  mail-order  house.  Mr. — 
Jones,  a  department  head,  and  Mr.  Smith  were 
close  friends  and  it  was  arranged  that  I  should 
go  in  as  assistant  to  Mr. — Jones." 

"We  are  not  going  to  tell  our  real  names,  I 
gather,'*  I  remarked,  dryly. 

"Oh,  it's  unfair  of  me,"  she  said,  "because 
you've  been  so  kind  to  me  and  of  course" — 
a  glint  of  mischief  touched  her  somber  eyes 
— "I  could  find  out  your  name  from  the  mail 
box  downstairs.  But  please  let  everything 
about  me  be  unidentified — for  the  present." 

"All  right — for  the  present,"  I  repeated. 

"I  was  to  report  to  Mr.  Jones  last  Monday 
morning.  Mr.  Smith  left  several  days  before 
and  I  spent  the  intervening  time  in  some  long- 
neglected  shopping.  My  nice  old  landlady  sold 
out  a  little  while  ago  and  a  horrible  creature 
took  her  place.  I  might  as  well  say  that  while 
I  can  attend  to  a  man's  work,  in  business,  I 
can't  take  care  of  my  own  affairs.  Every  at- 
tempt I've  made  at  keeping  accounts  has  failed. 
So  I  don't  dare  to  run  bills.  The  only  person 

37 


IN  THE  DARK 

I've  ever  owed  in  Chicago  was  ray  landlady. 
I  was  two  weeks  behind  when  she  sold  out  and 
the  new  woman,  who  is  a  close-fisted  thing, 
bought  all  unpaid  accounts  with  the  place.  My 
poor  old  lady  told  me  she  insisted  on  taking 
them  over  at  seventy-five  cents  on  the  dollar. 
But  she'll  collect  every  cent. 

"The  new  'missus',  as  the  servants  call  her, 
was  very  sweet  but  I  knew  she  was  a  hag  and 
I  meant  to  pay  up  that  old  bill  right  away. 
Then  in  the  joy  of  my  shopping  I  forgot  alto- 
gether about  it.  Last  Saturday  night  I  found 
not  only  that  I  couldn't  pay  the  old  bill  but 
that  I  had  less  than  five  dollars  to  apply  on 
last  week.  I  went  to  'missus'  to  explain  and 
she  was  horrible.  'I  see  you've  lost  your  job,' 
she  said.  She'd  noticed  that  I  was  around  in 
the  middle  of  the  day.  'No,  I  haven't,'  I  an- 
swered, 'I'm  just  changing  jobs.  My  new  job 
begins  Monday.'  'Well,  I'd  like  my  money  or 
at  least  a  part  of  it,'  she  replied,  softening  a 
little,  and  I  went  back  to  my  room  shaking  with 
anger. 

38 


WHENCE  SHE  CAME 

"You  see,  I'm  not  used  to  being  insulted  or 
having  my  word  doubted.  But  the  worst  was 
to  come.  Half  an  hour  afterward  the  land- 
lady's son  knocked  on  my  door.  He  must  have 
been  created  a  disagreeable,  useless  young 
puppy,  and  his  mother  has  bred  him  into  a 
very  nasty  dog.  He  suggested  smirkily  that 
he  might  'call  off  the  mater,'  only  I  was  such 
a  stand-offish  person  that  I  didn't  encourage 
anyone  to  be  friendly. 

"I  snapped  out  that  he  didn't  seem  to  need 
any  encouragement  and  then — oh,  what  is  the 
use  of  my  telling  you  all  this.  You  can  guess 
the  situation.  I  went  downtown  Monday  de- 
termined to  ask  Mr.  Jones  to  advance  me  a 
week's  salary.  That  would  quiet  the  'missus'  ' 
real  suspicions  and  give  me  time  to  write  to 
my  sister  in  Detroit  for  help.  But  an  awful 
thing  happened. 

"Mr.  Jones'  father  had  died  and  he  had  gone 
East  suddenly.  No  one  in  the  office  knew  a 
thing  about  me.  Of  course,  Mr.  Jones  had  for- 
gotten in  his  rush  and  trouble  that  I  was  com- 

39 


IN  THE  DARK 

ing  Monday  and  apparently  he  hadn't  happened 
to  tell  anyone.  Naturally  the  women  in  his  de- 
partment, who  had  been  expecting  to  be  pushed 
up  to  fill  the  place  of  the  assistant  who  had  left, 
weren't  very  cordial  to  me.  In  fact  I  think 
they  thought  that  I  was  trying  to  get  the  place. 
Since  Mr.  Jones  hadn't  said  anything  about  me 
they  probably  doubted  if  I  had  been  chosen. 
They  were  really  quite  horrid.  I  was  never 
so  embarrassed  in  my  life. 

"Just  like  a  little  fool  I  went  home  to  think 
it  over.  The  'missus'  met  me  in  the  hall. 
'Didn't  get  the  job,  I  see,'  she  sneered;  'well 
I  intend  to  get  my  money  just  the  same ! '  Still 
acting  like  a  fool  I  unfastened  my  purse  and 
turned  it  upside  down  on  the  hall  table. 
'There's  every  cent  I  have,'  I  said;  'take  it!' 
Then  in  a  moment  of  sanity  I  grabbed  a  half 
dollar  and  said:  'I'll  use  this  to  telegraph  my 
sister  for  enough  to  pay  my  bill  and  then  I'll 
leave  this — this' — well,  I  called  the  house  a 
pretty  bad  name.  You  see,  I  was  dreadfully 

40 


WHENCE  SHE  CAME 

angry  and  really  she  had  recently  taken  in 
some  very  queer  looking  l peroxides.' 

"  'Oh,  that's  what  you  call  my  boarding 
house  for  refined  young  ladies,  is  it,'  she 
screamed.  'Very  well.  You  can't  go  too  soon 
for  me.  But,  I  tell  you,  not  another  meal  will 
you  eat  in  this  house.  I  ought  to  turn  you  out 
on  the  street  but  you  can  sleep  here  if  you  think 
it's  respectable  enough  for  your  ladyship.' 

"Her  hoarse,  high  voice  rang  through  the 
house.  I  could  hear  doors  opening  upstairs 
and  could  see  skirts  sticking  through  the  rail- 
ings along  the  second-floor  hall.  It  was  ter- 
rible. 

"  'You  can  stay  until  sweet  sister  sends  you 
enough  to  pay  your  bill — but  don't  you  try  to 
sneak  out  with  any  of  your  things  or  I'll — ' 
I  couldn  't  stand  it  any  longer.  I  simply  bolted 
through  the  front  door — and  scurried  away 
down  the  street  to  a  telegraph  office.  I  tramped 
around  all  day,  spending  time  in  department 
store  rest-rooms,  at  the  Art  Institute,  Public 

41 


IN  THE  DAEK 

Library  and  such  places.  At  night  I  bought 
some  fruit  and  crackers  with  my  remaining 
pennies  and  stole  in  about  ten  o'clock  unob- 
served. No  telegram.  I  thought  perhaps  there 
would  be  a  letter  in  the  morning.  No  letter  in 
the  first  mail. 

"I  just  missed  the  'missus'  in  the  hall  but  got 
out  safely  and  went  to  a  secluded  corner  in  a 
downtown  hotel  for  another  '  think-f est. '  I  had 
eaten  the  remains  of  my  fruit  and  crackers  in 
my  room  so  I  had  a  little  courage  left.  Then  I 
realized  what  had  happened  and  all  my  courage 
left  me. 

"My  brother-in-law's  business  requires  him 
to  take  a  long  trip  usually  once  a  year.  He 
travels  way  to  the  Coast,  but  very  slowly — 
long  stops  at  big  towns  and  he  always  takes 
my  sister  with  him.  Having  no  children,  they 
simply  shut  up  their  apartment.  Their  maid 
usually  goes  to  her  mother's  house,  just  com- 
ing around  now  and  then  so  as  to  keep  an  eye 
on  things.  My  sister  and  I  don't  correspond 
as  much  as  we  used  to,  so  I  had  entirely  for- 

42 


WHENCE  SHE  CAME 

gotten  that  she  had  said  a  few  weeks  ago  that 
they  would  probably  leave  about  this  time. 

"The  most  irritating  thing  was  that  they 
were  sure  to  reach  Chicago  soon,  but  just  when 
I  couldn't  tell.  They  usually  stopped  at  the 
hotel  I  was  in  when  this  idea  occurred  to  me; 
so  I  went  to  the  desk  and  asked  if  rooms  were 
reserved  for  them.  No,  of  course  not,  that 
would  have  been  too  good  luck. 

"Obviously  I  couldn't  live  on  nothing  for  a 
week.  What  did  people  do  when  they  needed 
money?  They  pawned  things!  Well,  I  didn't 
have  much  but  I  thought  I  could  get  a  few 
dollars  on  some  small  pieces  of  jewelry.  So  I 
tramped  back  home.  You  see,  I  didn't  have 
even  car  fare.  I  was  glad  I  lived  at  Twen- 
tieth! 

"I  gathered  up  my  courage  and  marched  in, 
bold  as  brass.  My  room  door  was  locked !  On 
it  was  the  'missus'  '  card  on  which  she  had  writ- 
ten: 'See  me.'  I  heard  her  voice  downstairs 
and  I  ran  down  as  fast  as  I  could  and  furiously 
demanded  to  know  why  my  room  was  locked. 

43 


IN  THE  DABK 

"  'Well,  Miss  Hoity-Toity,'  she  said,  <I 
thought  you  might  begin  to  pawn  some  of  your 
things,  now  you  haven't  got  your  job.  People 
do  that  sometimes,  even  real  ladies!  And  as 
that  stuff  of  yours  is  about  all  I'm  likely  to 
get  for  my  bill  I  thought  I'd  better  lock  it  up. 
Still  waiting  to  hear  from  sister?  Well,  you 
can  sleep  in  the  vacant  room  on  the  third  floor 
for  a  night  or  two,  if  you  like.' 

1 '  Then  I  lost  my  temper  and  began  to  threaten 
and  when  she  laughed  I  could  have  choked  her. 
'Get  a  lawyer,'  she  cackled,  'he  won't  ask  for 
pay ;  they  like  to  work  for  nothing ;  get  a  police- 
man, why  don 't  you  ?  Haven 't  you  any  friends  I 
Even  nice,  refined  ladies  have  gentleman  friends 
— '  and  so  on,  louder  and  higher  and  meaner 
and  more  insinuating  every  minute,  until  I 
ran  out  of  the  house. 

"Perhaps  I've  told  enough  so  that  you  can 
see  my  predicament.  I  really  didn't  know  a 
person  in  town  to  whom  I  could  have  gone  and 
asked  for  help — for  relief.  I  simply  couldn't 
go  and  beg  pennies  from  the  few  people  I  had 

44 


WHENCE  SHE  CAME 

known  casually  in  a  business  way.  I  suppose 
they  might  have  done  something  but  I  couldn't 
bear  to  think  of  a  refusal  and  I  almost  felt 
that  I  would  starve  before  I  could  even  ask. 
So  I  tried  to  look  for  work,  temporary  work. 
" Maybe  I  didn't  go  about  it  right.  I'm  sup- 
posed to  be  a  good  stenographer  and  typist 
but  the  advertised  jobs  are  all  permanent  ones 
and,  of  course,  I  expect  to  get  that  position  as 
soon  as  Mr.  Jones  comes  back.  I  went  there 
every  day  in  hopes  he  might  have  come  or  writ- 
ten. The  girls  all  laughed  whenever  I  ap- 
peared, but  I  had  to  do  it.  Well,  I  couldn't  get 
any  work  Tuesday  or  Wednesday  and  the  little 
food  I  got  was  very  little  and  I'm  never  go- 
ing to  tell  anybody  how!  It's  lucky  my  clothes 
were  respectable  or  I  wouldn't  have  been  per- 
mitted in  the  hotels  and  other  places  where 
I  went  to  rest.  Wednesday  night  that  de- 
spicable cub,  that  the  'missus'  takes  pride  in 
having  reared,  met  me  on  the  stairs.  I  think 
he  had  been  watching  for  me.  If  he  hadn't 
been  slow-witted  and  half  drunk  I  wouldn't 

45 


IN  THE  DAKK 

have  got  by  as  well  as  I  did.  As  it  was  I 
slammed  my  door  in  Ms  leering  face.  Then  I 
knew  that  I  couldn't  sleep  in  that  house  again. 

"To-day  I  tramped  everywhere  looking  for 
any  kind  of  work,  anything  that  would  pay 
for  food  and  lodging.  I  couldn't  get  it,  that 
is,  not  in  any  decent — that  is,  I  simply  couldn't 
get  it.  I  didn't  dare  to  go  back  to  the  house 
so  I  wandered  into  the  park.  I  had  been  look- 
ing for  a  place  in  one  of  the  small  restaurants 
out  this  way  at  dinner  time.  Now,  don't  tell 
me  I'm  a  fool.  Could  I  have  helped  myself  in 
some  way  I  haven't  thought  of?  What  else 
could  I  have  done?" 

"Nothing  that  I  think  of,"  I  answered 
slowly.  "It's  amazing,  isn't  it,  how  quickly 
we  lose  our  grip  on  even  the  necessities  of  life 
if  all  communication  with  those  who  know  us 
is  suddenly  broken.  I  kept  thinking  of  that 
while  you  talked.  Of  course,  I  have  a  thousand 
ties  that  bind  me  more  or  less  to  a  large  num- 
ber of  people.  If  by  accident  some  of  those 
were  broken  still  I  would  maintain  my  place, 

46 


WHENCE  SHE  CAME 

my  poise.  But,  suppose  I  had  only  two  or 
three  such  cords,  such  as  you  had,  and  they 
were  all  cut  at  one  stroke  and  I  had  no  money. 
I  suppose  I  should  become  a  mere  plaything 
for  the  wind  in  the  streets.  Doors  are  opened 
only  to  those  who  are  known  or  have  money. 
No  one  would  take  me  in,  no  one  would  aid  me, 
unless  I  admitted  myself  a  helpless  thing  and 
begged  for  professional  charity." 

"Oh,  you  would  have  a  much  easier  time  than 
I,"  she  said,  rather  bitterly.  "The  world  is 
used  to  the  man  without  money  or  friends,  and 
gives  him  a  few  rights  of  brotherhood.  He 
may  lounge  in  hotels  and  saloons,  he  may  scrape 
up  acquaintances,  he  may  help  out  in  odd  jobs 
for  a  dime  or  a  quarter.  But  a  woman  must 
have  money  or  have  rights  upon  some  man's 
money.  There's  no  right  of  sisterhood  for 
her." 

She  stopped  talking  abruptly  in  some  embas- 
rassment,  her  delicate  features  flushed,  her 
hands  gesturing  futilely. 

"How  ungrateful,"  she  stammered,  "for  me 
47 


IN  THE  DARK 

to  talk  this  way  when  you  have  been  so  kind. 
But  I've  had  a  hard  day,  full  of  very  bitter 
things.  Well — I've  told  you  my  story.  I'm 
sorry  it  was  so  long.  It  must  be  very  late. 
But  I  wanted  you  to  see  just  how  everything 
happened.  I  couldn't  skip  over  things  and 
make  it  plain.  You  see,  I've  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of  and,  as  you  suggested  in  the  begin- 
ning, my  trouble  is  only  temporary.  I'm  sure 
sister  will  be  here  to-morrow." 

''Meanwhile,"  I  said,  assuming  a  business- 
like manner,  "there  are  two  things  to  be  done. 
You  can  go  to  a  hotel,  which  would  be  embar- 
rassing, as  it  is  late,  though  I  could  provide 
you  with  a  satchel  for  the  sake  of  posing  as 
a  recent  arrival,  or  you  can  stay  here.  My 
sister's  room  is  just  as  she  left  it  and  you  are 
welcome  to  it.  Sister  is  scared  to  death  about 
burglars  whenever  I'm  away  over  night,  which 
is  often  necessary  in  my  business.  So  she  has 
fitted  up  the  door  with  all  kinds  of  bolts  and 
chains.  The  window  has  a  safety  catch. 
There's  an  extension  phone  at  the  head  of  the 

48 


WHENCE  SHE  CAME 

bed.  It's  as  safe  as  a  bank  vault.  You  could 
dismiss  all  uneasiness  at  the  thought  of  being 
in  a  strange  house  and  get  the  rest  that  you 
need.  In  the  morning  I  shall  make  some  of 
our  famous  coffee  and  then  we'll  discuss  the 
future.  Yes,  yes,  that's  the  thing  to  do." 

I  walked  up  and  down  during  this  speech 
avoiding  interruption  by  refusing  to  look  at 
her  and  by  disregarding  gasps  of  protest.  In 
pitiful  confusion  she  tried  to  frame  her  objec- 
tions to  my  proposal,  but  her  expressed  em- 
barrassments were  so  obviously  fictitious  and 
her  real  embarrassments  so  obviously  inexpres- 
sible that  her  protest  was  feeble  and  uncon- 
vincing. I  rode  it  down,  unmercifully. 

''Nonsense,  you  are  struggling  with  a  lot  of 
conventional  ideas  that  have  no  application. 
We  are  facing  facts,  mysterious  young  lady, 
unconventional,  undeniable  facts.  There  is  no 
good  reason  why  you  should  not  stay  here,  ex- 
cept that  you  might  find  it  necessary  to  lie 
about  it  afterwards.  Well,  what  of  that?  Of 
course,  it's  wicked  to  lie,  but  it's  more  wicked 

49 


IN  THE  DAKK 

to  be  stupid  and  you  would  only  need  to  lie  to 
stupid  people — those  who  ask  questions  they've 
no  business  to  ask  and  haven't  the  intelligence 
to  appreciate  honest  answers — so  it  doesn't 
seem  to  me  it  would  be  very  wrong  to  be  a 
little  wicked  to  save  wicked  people  from  be- 
ing more  wicked — that  is,  stupid  people  from 
being  more  stupid." 

"Do  you  always  talk  this  way?"  she  inter- 
rupted, "or  are  you  just  doing  it  to  amuse  me 
and  make  me  forget  my  troubles." 

"No,  no,  like  Holmes'  character,  I  very  sel- 
dom dare  to  be  as  funny  as  I  am.  Honestly 
I'm  rattling  along  because  down  in  my  heart 
I'm  just  as  embarrassed  as  you  are  and  I  don't 
want  you  to  know  it.  This  way,  please !" 

I  walked  to  the  door  of  my  sister's  room 
and  snapped  on  the  lights.  She  followed  me 
with  a  strange,  little  smile  hovering  around 
her  parted  lips.  I  bowed  ceremoniously  and 
she  passed  in. 

"Good-night,  and  pleasant  dreams,"  I  said 
solemnly. 

50 


WHENCE  SHE  CAME 

She  turned  and  faced  me  and  for  a  moment 
gave  me  the  full  sweetness  of  her  flooded,  ten- 
der eyes.  Then,  almost  in  a  whisper,  she  said : 
"Good-night,"  and  shut  the  door. 


51 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   NEXT   DAY 

NOW  she  had  fled  back  to  the  World  Out- 
side. The  melodramatic  intrusion  of  my 
strange  neighbor  had  driven  her  into  the  un- 
friendly streets  from  which  I  thought  I  had 
saved  her.  In  the  morning  I  had  expected  to 
give  her  in  some  way  the  temporary  aid  she 
needed.  She  must  face  another  day's  fight 
alone;  perhaps  she  would  not  even  meet  the 
evening  appointment.  I  could  guess  that  she 
dreaded  to  seek  me  in  the  attitude  of  expecting 
help.  Yet  she  must  feel  that  she  owed  me  an 
explanation  of  her  flight.  Surely  if  she  had 
thought  me  in  danger  she  would  not  have  run 
away,  with  a  telephone  in  the  room  through 
which  she  could  summon  help. 

No,  she  must  have  feared  for  herself.    This 
man  evidently  had  some  connection  with  her 

52 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

past  life,  concerning  which  she  had  said  so  little. 
Why  should  she  be  working  in  a  city  remote 
from  all  old  associations  or  living  relatives? 
Why  should  she  not  desire  acquaintances?  It 
looked  as  if  she  wished  to  avoid  someone,  as 
if  she  was  determined  to  leave  no  trail  for  some- 
one to  pick  up  and  follow.  Curlew,  my  neigh- 
bor, was  plainly  that  someone.  He  had  spoken 
of  searching  and  when  he  feared  that  she  might 
escape  he  became  desperate  in  pursuit.  What 
was  their  relationship — former  lovers?  I  was 
conscious  of  an  absurd  but  distinct  feeling  of 
jealousy.  Perhaps  man  and  wife — a  most  dis- 
quieting thought.  Puzzling  over  the  causes  re- 
sponsible for  the  turmoil  of  this  most  amazing 
night  I  had  ever  passed  I  stared  blindly  into 
the  ashes,  my  head  sagging  forward  upon  my 
chest  until  suddenly  sleep  halted  my  groping 
fancies. 

I  supposed  the  postman's  ring  awakened  me 
to  the  necessity  of  restoring  the  circulation  to 
my  cramped  limbs  and  taking  up  the  usual  busi- 
ness of  the  day.  The  chill  common  sense  of  the 

53 


IN  THE  DARK 

shower-bath  speedily  drove  out  of  my  thoughts 
the  romantic  illusions  of  the  previous  evening. 
Forgetting  that  the  practical  demands  of  the 
day  cloud  truth  just  as  effectively  as  the  moon- 
spun  desires  of  the  night,  the  entire  episode  took 
on  an  appearance  of  sinister  absurdity.  Dis- 
missing it  arbitrarily  I  turned  my  attention  to 
the  question  of  adjusting  sundry  engagements 
necessarily  disturbed  by  my  late  start.  The 
very  business  of  suretyship  in  which  I  was  en- 
gaged, involved  constantly  furnishing  bonds  to 
insure  against  loss  from  the  recognized  untrust- 
worthiness  of  the  majority  of  men  and  women 
when  in  trouble.  And  I  had  accepted  the  story 
of  this  woman,  obviously  in  distress,  as  all  wool 
and  a  yard  wide.  I  prided  myself  on  my  judg- 
ment of  human  nature,  that  supposedly  keen 
judgment  necessary  to  a  successful  dealer  in 
surety  bonds! 

By  lunch  time,  however,  the  reaction  set  in. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  fundamental  basis  of 
my  business  was  trust,  confidence  that  most  men 
were  honest,  that  most  businesses  were  honest, 

54 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

that  most  officials  were  trustworthy.  This  con- 
fidence, plus  the  salesman's  ability  to  spot  and 
avoid  obvious  rascals,  was  what  insured  my 
company's  profits.  That  woman  was  a  thor- 
ough-bred. I  knew  it. 

I  marched  out  of  the  restaurant  once  more 
an  optimist — that  happiest,  most  foolish  op- 
timist in  the  world,  a  middle-aged  bachelor  who 
suddenly  finds  stirring  in  himself  a  long  at- 
rophied ability  to  fall  in  love.  Then  by  mer- 
est chance  I  caught  sight  of  Curlew  disappear- 
ing in  a  doorway  across  the  street.  Something 
in  his  manner  of  looking  backwards  annoyed 
me.  He  seemed  to  be  watching  me.  Is  he  fol- 
lowing me  around,  I  thought?  I  could  test  that 
very  quickly,  so  I  walked  on  down  the  block, 
turned  into  a  quiet  side  street  and  hurried 
through  it.  As  I  turned  the  next  corner  I 
glanced  back  carelessly.  Curlew  was  loping 
along  the  sidewalk  a  couple  of  hundred  feet 
away.  Paying  no  further  attention  to  him  I 
went  back  to  my  office. 

"Man  called,"  said  the  office  boy.  "Didn't 
55 


IN  THE  DAEK 

leave  any  name;  wanted  to  know  if  you'd  be  in 
about  five  o'clock." 

"What  did  he  look  like?" 

"Tall,  thin  fellow,"  was  the  boy's  descrip- 
tion. ' '  Kind  of  wild-eyed ! '  • 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"Said  you  usually  came  in  about  that  time 
before  you  went  home,  if  you'd  been  out.  He 
said  he  would  probably  drop  in. ' ' 

"I  guess  you  gave  him  the  information  he 
wanted,"  I  remarked  dryly.  "Let  me  know  if 
he  calls  again!" 

Evidently  Curlew  feared  he  might  lose  me 
during  the  day,  so  while  I  was  safely  at  lunch 
he  had  sounded  the  office  to  find  out  when  I 
would  leave  there  so  that  he  could  pick  up  the 
lost  trail.  He  intended  to  follow  me  until  I  met 
Her  again.  Well,  perhaps  I  could  dispose  of 
that  notion.  I  certainly  intended  to  see  her 
without  any  danger  of  assisting  him  in  his  pur- 
suit, at  least  until  I  had  heard  her  side  of  the 
story.  I  trot  around  town  a  great  deal  in  my 
business,  so  I  gave  Mr.  Curlew  a  very  enter- 

56 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

taining  afternoon,  but  no  intimation  that  I 
observed  him  shadowing  me. 

About  five-thirty  I  closed  my  desk  and  glad- 
dened Mr.  Curlew  with  my  appearance  on  the 
sidewalk.  Favored  with  his  company  I  walked 
over  to  a  store  which  suited  my  purpose  ad- 
mirably. It  was  a  grocery  store  in  front  with 
a  popular  bar  neatly  concealed  in  the  rear,  from 
which  a  back  door  opened  on  an  alley.  Even 
if  Curlew  were  acquainted  with  this  egress  he 
would  naturally  assume  that  I,  being  unsuspi- 
cious of  his  presence,  would  leave  by  the  front 
door. 

Refusing  the  cordial  call  of  an  acquaintance 
whose  middle  name  was  reputed  to  be  Alcohol,  I 
slipped  out  through  the  alley  door.  Turning 
east  I  hurried  across  town  to  Wabash  Avenue, 
where  I  boarded  a  car  without  seeing  anything 
of  my  pursuer.  Not  daring  to  eat  at  my  Club, 
with  the  idea  that  he  might  inquire  and  watch 
for  me  there,  I  had  decided  to  dine  at  an  in- 
conspicuous uptown  hotel. 

From  there  I  took  a  taxi-cab  out  to  the  park 
57 


IN  THE  DABK 

and,  bidding  the  driver  wait  where  the  path 
crossed  the  roadway,  I  arrived  at  the  rendez- 
vous at  almost  exactly  eight  o'clock.  I  had 
waited  impatiently  for  two  or  three  minutes 
when  I  heard  a  step  on  the  grass  behind  me  and 
turning  saw  Her  hurrying  down  the  sloping 
lawn. 

"I  waited  a  moment  on  the  upper  path," 
she  explained,  "to  be  sure  that  you  were  not 
followed. ' ' 

"Or  had  not  brought  anyone  with  me?"  I 
asked,  smiling. 

"No,  I  didn't  think  you  would  do  that,  but 
I'm  so  afraid." 

"I  have  a  taxi-cab  at  the  end  of  the  path. 
If  you  will  take  a  little  ride  with  me  we  can 
talk  in  safety." 

"Oh,  there's  no  need  of  that,"  she  said 
hastily.  "I  just  want  to  tell  you  that  my  sister 
is  in  town,  so  that  I'm  all  right  now.  And 
I  want  to  thank  you  more  than  I  can  express 
for  what  you  did  for  me  last  night." 

"Aren't  you  going  to  tell  me  why  you  ran 
58 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

away  last  night?  You  didn't  fear  me,  did 
you?" 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  she  protested.  "I  understand 
last  night  better  than  you.  I  can't  explain. 
I'm  so  sorry  he  troubled  you,  but  it  was  more 
of  a  shock  to  me  than  to  you." 

"You  are  talking  mysteries  to  me,  of  course, 
but  I  must  tell  you  something  about  this  man 
for  your  own  sake.  Won't  you  come  with  me 
in  the  cab!  Frankly  I'm  afraid  of  his  follow- 
ing me  here,  though  I  think  he  is  off  the  track 
just  now." 

' '  Oh  dear,  what  bad  luck  that  he  should  have 
seen  me. '  *  Her  hand  trembled  for  a  moment  on 
my  arm.  "Yes,  yes,  I  must  know  all  about  him 
that  I  can.  You'll  tell  me,  won't  you?" 

"Head  for  Lincoln  Park,"  I  told  the  driver, 
"and  keep  going  north  till  I  tell  you  to  stop." 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  said.  He  was  a  very  decent 
driver.  He  didn't  even  grin. 

"If  you  could  give  me  a  little  explanation  I 
might  be  more  helpful,"  I  said  as  soon  as  the 
rattle  and  roar  of  getting  under  way  had  sub- 

59 


IN  THE  DAEK 

sided.    "I  don't  wish  to  pry,  but  I  would  like 
immensely  to  be  useful." 

"You've  been  splendid, "  she  burst  out  ex- 
travagantly. "Don't  think  I  don't  appreciate 
it.  But  I  simply  can  not  tell  some  things.  I'll 
tell  you  this;  that  man  is  the  last  man  in  the 
world  I  wanted  to  meet.  Last  night  I  woke 
up  suddenly  and  thought  I  heard  his  voice.  I 
was  simply  terror-stricken.  Where  he  had 
come  from  I  didn't  know.  I  thought  that  I 
must  have  been  mistaken.  I  picked  up  my  coat 
and  hat — I  had  lain  down  without  undressing, 
everything  was  so  strange,  you  see,  and  I  was 
so  tired — and  I  stepped  out  into  the  hall 
very  carefully.  I  heard  a  murmur  from  the 
room  down  the  hall.  It  scared  me.  I  tiptoed 
back  and  wrote  the  little  note  so  I  could  ex- 
plain why  I  had  left.  I  didn't  like  to  go  but 
I  didn't  dare  to  stay.  I  was  standing  in  the 
hall  again,  undecided  what  to  do,  when  I  heard 
his  voice  plainly — I  could  not  mistake  that 
voice.  He  was  angry  and  I  heard  him  say  dis- 
tinctly: 'If  you  won't  talk  I'll  have  to  talk 

60 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

to  her.'  I  opened  the  outer  door,  closed  it 
softly  behind  me,  and  simply  flew  down  the 
stairs.  That's  all  there  is  to  my  story — ex- 
cept that  when  I  inquired  at  the  hotel  this  morn- 
ing Dorothy  had  arrived,  so  I'm  on  easy  street 
again,  which  means  that  I'm  in  a  new  board- 
ing house ! ' ' 

"What  did  you  do  before  you  found  Sister 
Dorothy?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  I  just  walked  around."  She  slid 
rapidly  over  that  long  misery.  "Please  tell 
me  what  you  know.  How  did  he  happen  to 
be  there?" 

"He  didn't  happen,"  I  said,  grimly.  "He 
broke  in  and  demanded  to  know  your  name  and 
where  you  had  come  from.  As  I  didn't  know 
either  I  was  very  discreet !  I  kept  your  secret 
well!" 

"Just  like  him,"  she  said.  "I  don't  suppose 
he  really  meant  any  harm  and  yet  he  never  had 
a  bit  of  self-control." 

The  "yet"  was  what  bothered  me.  I  re- 
plied flippantly,  "I'm  sure  he  didn't  mean  any 

61 


IN  THE  DAEK 

harm.  He 's  always  been  such  a  peaceful  neigh- 
bor. But  I  was  a  little  disturbed  for  fear  when 
he  couldn't  force  me  to  tell  what  I  didn't  know 
that  he  might  casually  kill  me.  I  was  sure  he  'd 
regret  it  afterwards,  but  was  not  quite  recon- 
ciled to  causing  that  regret." 

"Did  you  say  he  was  a  neighbor?"  she  de- 
manded. ' '  You  know  him  ? ' ' 

"He  lives  across  the  hall  from  me.  Moved 
in  some  months  ago,  but  I  don't  believe  that 
I've  ever  seen  him  until  he  introduced  himself 
to  me  last  night.  His  face  was  very  near  to 
me  then,  but  as  the  room  was  dark  and  he  had 
just  been  choking  me  he  didn't  impress  me 
very  favorably.  I  got  a  better  look  at  him  later, 
my  best  and  final  view  being  along  the  sights 
of  a  revolver.  You  see,  he  left  a  bit  unwill- 
ingly. ' ' 

I  felt  a  little  cheap  after  this  braggadocio  but 
the  girl  piqued  me.  She  didn't  seem  to  have 
been  a  bit  impressed  with  the  hazardous  ad- 
venture into  which  she  had  drawn  me.  Mas- 
culine pride  demanded  a  little  strut. 

62 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

"  Never,  never,  never,"  she  exclaimed, 
"  would  I  have  gone  to  your  house  had  I  guessed 
that  he  lived  there.  I'm  terribly  sorry  I 
brought  him  down  upon  you.  He's  a  raging 
child  with  two  men's  strength  in  anger.  Of 
course,  he  was  frightfully  upset  and  behaved 
outrageously. ' ' 

"That's  all  past  now,"  I  said  thoroughly 
ashamed  of  my  egotism.  "This  man  said 
that  he  meant  you  no  harm,  that  he  had  searched 
for  you  for  years ;  he  intimated  that  you  might 
wish  to  avoid  him  from  some  mistaken  idea 
about  him.  But  when  I  made  the  random  sug- 
gestion that  he  had  no  right  to  see  you  I  seemed 
to  hit  home." 

"There's  no  mistake,"  she  said  wearily. 
"I'll  tell  this  much,  Mr.— Winston— " 

"You  did  look  in  the  hall,"  I  accused.  "You 
took  my  name  from  the  mail  box  and  you  won't 
give  me  yours." 

"It's  very  different,"  she  said  in  some  con- 
fusion. "Your  name  is  open  to  the  world.  To 
give  you  my  name  would  be  to  put  a  seal  on 

63 


IN  THE  DAEK 

your  lips,  to  put  you  under  a  sacred  obligation 
never  to  do  some  things  that  might  bring  ter- 
rible distress  to  me.  I  am  already  under  deep 
obligations  to  you  as  a  stranger.  I  should  have 
to  assume  still  heavier  debts  to  you  as  a  friend. ' ' 
It  was  quite  dark  in  the  cab;  she  was  very 
near  to  me ;  I  rediscovered  a  forgotten  pulse  in 
my  temples  as  the  illusions  of  the  night  before 
returned  with  still  greater  force.  She  was  a 
wonderful  woman!  I  knew  nothing  about  her, 
but  I  knew  her,  and  that  was  enough.  Attrac- 
tion has  no  reasons ;  it  simply  is.  It  is  the  same 
with — affection.  I  was  really — fond  of  her.  I 
couldn't  help  it;  why  should  II  I  needn't 
make  a  silly  ass  of  myself.  It  was  a  fine  feel- 
ing to  be  fond  of  anyone,  an  admirable,  com- 
fortable, warming  feeling,  that  gave  life  a  sud- 
den keenness.  Yes,  I  would  permit  myself  to 
— be  fond  of  her.  How  handy  that  little  word 
"fond"  was.  "Love"  would  have  scared  me; 
so,  like  many  a  timid  lover,  I  said  "fond." 
Also  I  said  it  to  myself.  Out  loud  I  remarked 
courageously : 

64 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

"I  shall  be  the  one  under  obligations  if  you 
will  consider  me  as  a  friend."  Could  anything 
have  been  more  stupid? 

After  a  moment  of  dismal  silence,  in  which 
my  self-esteem  shrank  to  invisibility,  she  said: 

"I  started  to  tell  you  that  I  am  making  no 
mistakes  about  Mr.  Curlew,  because  all  that  is 
wrong  with  him  is  what  you  saw  last  night. 
That  utter  lack  of  control  has  wrecked  his  life 
and  would  wreck  any  life  in  which  he  was  an 
influence.  I  am  sorry  for  him  but  I  fear  him. 
The  only  way  to  be  safe  from  him  is  to  pass  out 
of  his  life  and  leave  no  path  whereby  he  may 
follow.  He  has  no  right  to  follow  me.  He 
knows  it  but  he  persists. " 

1  'Did  he  ever  have  such  a  right?"  I  had  no 
business  asking  that  question,  but  I  couldn't 
stop  my  tongue  in  time. 

'  *  No, ' '  she  said ; ' '  no  right.  His  pursuit  isn  't 
unreasonable  but  he  has  no  right." 

Now  what  did  she  mean  by  that?  Did  she 
mean  that  he  had  no  right  which  she  acknowl- 
edged? Again  the  ugly  thought  came:  was  he 

65 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

a  husband  who  had  forfeited  legally,  or  morally 
in  her  judgment,  his  rights? 

"Mr.  Winston,"  she  cried  suddenly,  "  did 
I  tell  you  my  sister's  name?" 

" Dorothy,  I  believe  you  said." 

"I  shouldn't  have  done  that.  But  having 
made  one  slip  I'm  tempted  to  toboggan  all  the 
way." 

I  waited  patiently. 

"Yes,  I  will.  I  need  a  friend  in  Chicago, 
Mr.  Winston,  need  one  very  badly,  especially 
since  Mr.  Curlew  is  on  my  trail.  You  see,  I'm 
being  candid,  not  sentimental." 

"May  I  take  the  sentimental  part?"  A 
most  frivolous  interjection. 

' '  No,  you  must  be  candid,  too.  I  know  enough 
about  you,  both  from  your  treatment  of  me 
and  by  reputation  to  appreciate  your  offer  of 
friendship.  If  I  put  myself  in  relationship 
with  a  few  respectable  people  perhaps  we  can 
consider  ourselves  acquainted.  My  name — that 
is  what  makes  it  difficult — my  business  name  is 
Miss  Littlefield.  That's  what  you  must  call  me. 

66 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

I  was  forced  to  take  some  name  for  common  use 
that  wouldn't  attract  Mr.  Curlew's  casual  at- 
tention. Now  I'm  going  to  tell  you  something 
that  nobody  in  Chicago  knows,  my  real  name, 
which  must  never  be  whispered  so  as  to  identify 
either  my  sister  or  myself.  I  was  christened 
Gwenn  Fenton.  I  didn  't  want  to  introduce  my- 
self falsely  but  please  forget  that  name  on  the 
spot." 

"I  won't  forget  it  but  I'll  never  use  it  until 
you  tell  me  I  may,  Miss  Littlefield." 

"That  was  very  nice.  Thank  you.  My 
brother-in-law  is  Eex  Harbury.  He's  with  the 
Rockaway  Company  in  Detroit." 

"Is  that  so!  I  know  Ed.  Costerman,  secre- 
tary of  the  Rockaway  Company,  very  well." 

"Almost  an  introduction,  isn't  it!"  she 
laughed.  "But  I  can  do  better  than  that.  My 
brother-in-law  is  a  director  in  the  Nelson  Green 
Company  here.  You  do  business  for  them,  I 
believe." 

"Yes,  I  handle  all  their  surety  bonds.  I  un- 
derstand now  what  you  meant  in  speaking  of 

67 


knowing  me  'by  reputation.'  I'm  not  a  con- 
spicuous person,  so  I  was  puzzled." 

"Rex  said  that  Mr.  Green  thought  very 
highly  of  you.*' 

"He's  an  old  friend,"  I  said  in  some  embar- 
rassment. "Very  kind  of  him,  I'm  sure.  It 
seems  to  me  that  we've  been  most  respectably 
introduced.  Now,  what  I  wish  to  know  is,  what 
can  I  do?  Certainly  it  should  be  possible  to 
relieve  you  of  Mr.  Curlew." 

"No,  that  won't  be  possible  and  I  can  not 
explain  about  him.  Also  I  am  going  to  ask  you 
on  honor  not  to  try  to  find  out  anything  about 
my  sister  or  myself  or  Mr.  Curlew.  I'm  not 
ashamed  of  the  past,  but  it  is  better  for  every- 
one that  it  should  be  a  sealed  book.  Will  you 
be  a  good  friend  and  leave  it  sol" 

"Anything  you  say,"  I  answered  vaguely, 
feeling  quite  dissatisfied  with  these  conditions. 
It  is  a  bit  hard  to  take  situations  and  people 
as  they  are.  One's  conventional  standards  are 
fixed  to  interpret  the  present  by  the  past.  We 
often  talk  boldly  about  "a  new  deal"  and  "wip- 

68 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

ing  the  slate  clean,"  but  though  we  discard  and 
draw,  win  and  lose,  we  never  deal  or  score. 
There 's  just  one  deal  and  death  alone  can  clean 
the  slate. 

''You're  not  enthusiastic,"  she  remarked 
after  a  moment  of  silence. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I'm  enthusiastic  to  help  but 
the  conditions  are  rather  hampering.  What 
can  I  do?" 

"You  might  keep  an  eye  on  Mr.  Curlew," 
she  said  reflectively. 

I  laughed. 

"That  would  be  very  easy  if  I  had  one  in 
the  back  of  my  head.  He's  followed  me  all 
day.  Could  I  give  him  any  message  from  you 
that  might  stop  the  pursuit?" 

"I  can't  think  of  anything  that  would." 

"By  George!"  I  exclaimed,  at  a  sudden  rec- 
ollection. "When  he  broke  in  on  me  last  night 
he  said  that  he  intended  to  save  you  the  pain 
of  seeing  him  if  some  things  were  true.  You 
may  know  what  he  meant.  Perhaps  they  are 
true  or  perhaps  I  could  lie  a  bit  for  you." 

69 


IN  THE  DAKK 

"I  can't  see  what  lie  meant,"  she  responded, 
gropingly. 

'  *  It  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  if  he  thought 
you  were — married — may  be  that  was  what  he 
was  driving  at.  Can't  I  conjure  up  a  husband 
for  you?  I  might  even  assume — the — that  is — 
I  might  pretend — " 

"No,  that  would  never  do,"  she  broke  in, 
fiercely.  "That  wouldn't  help  at  all!" 

There  was  positive  terror  in  her  voice.  Con- 
found it!  Was  she,  or  had  she  been  married 
to  the  brute?  That  would  explain  her  excite- 
ment, in  fact  would  explain  everything.  Then 
another  idea — a  most  embarrassing  one — arose. 

"It's  barely  possible,"  I  said,  hesitatingly, 
"of  course,  I  suggest  it  very  reluctantly,  but, 
you  see,  I'm  so  much  in  the  dark.  It  may  have 
been  his  thought — it's  a  long  time  since  he's 
seen  you,  I  believe — that  you  were — that  you 
had  had  reverses,  hard  times  and  had,  well, 
sort  of  gone  down  hill,  you  know — 

I  heard  a  little  gasp  and  stopped  in  confu- 
sion. 

70 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  breathed,  "he  was  always 
so  stern,  so  uncompromising  about  such  things. 
I  never  thought  of  that.  It  might  be  a  way 
out." 

I  sat  dumbly  amazed. 

"Perhaps  if  be  thought  that,"  she  continued 
with  strange  hopefulness,  "he  might  give  up 
the  chase !  That 's  a  wonderful  idea,  Mr.  Win- 
ston. ' ' 

"You  really  suggest,"  I  demanded,  "that 
I  should  toss  your  reputation  to  him,  like  a 
bone  to  a  vicious  dog. ' ' 

"It  might  do,"  she  said  with  a  bit  of  con- 
straint. "I  hope  you  don't  think  I  consider 
it  a  light  sacrifice.  But  oh,  Mr.  Winston,  I've 
had  the  fear  of  that  man  in  my  heart  every 
day  in  the  year;  every  time  a  door  has  opened 
I've  looked  up  dreading  to  see  him  come  raging 
into  my  life  tramping  on  the  comfort  and  hap- 
piness and  peace  that  I  love.  So  I've  dreaded 
his  appearance  for  years  and  at  last  he  has 
sighted  me.  Is  it  strange  that  I  would  be  glad 
if  you  could  make  him  believe  anything,  any- 

71 


IN  THE  DAEK 

thing  that  would  take  him  out  of  my  life  for- 
ever?" 

"No,  it  isn't,"  I  answered  warmly,  "but 
would  it  last?  Or,  on  second  thought,  would 
he  come  back,  determined  to — redeem  you?" 

"Not  he,"  was  the  scornful  reply.  "He  is 
one  of  those  men  who  will  excuse  every  sin 
except  the  one  of  which  he  is  incapable.  You 
see,  a  man  doesn't  sell  himself;  he  only  buys!" 

To  say  that  the  vigor  of  this  remark  stunned 
me  expresses  its  effect  too  feebly.  I  had  ap- 
proached the  suggestion  timorously  and  first 
been  surprised  at  her  immediate  frank  accept- 
ance of  it  and  then  amazed  at  her  decisive  read- 
iness to  use  the  weapon;  but  the  unnecessary 
candor  of  her  last  statement  shocked  me  as 
much  as  though  she  had  suddenly  screamed: 
"Votes  for  Women."  The  parallel  is  exact 
because  I  deprecated,  not  the  sentiment,  but 
the  manner  of  its  delivery.  I  had  a  moment's 
horror  that  this  delicate,  appealing  little  woman 
might  be  "strong-minded,"  a  vague  descrip- 
tive, particularly  favored  by  bachelors,  who 

72 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

resent  the  idea  that  the  womanhood  they  gra- 
ciously protect  in  leisure  moments  should  ever 
be  self-sufficient.  The  age  of  thirty-five  found 
me  strong  in  this  resentment.  Later  years 
have  suggested  that  intelligence  is  an  admirable 
quality  in  a  prospective  housekeeper  and  not 
to  be  scorned  even  in  a  comrade  goddess. 

"I  thought  better  of  you  than  that,"  was 
her  next  remark,  with  a  tinge  of  bitterness. 
"You  didn't  like  what  I  said.  It  sounded  bold. 
Of  course,  I  haven't  lived  twenty  odd  years 
and  worked  here  alone  for  the  last  two  years 
without  learning  a  few  facts  about  life,  but 
being  a  woman  I  suppose  you  think  I  ought 
to  pretend  to  be  ignorant  of  them,  even  though 
the  knowledge  has  an  important  bearing  on 
just  what  we  are  discussing.  That's  why  a 
man  can  never  be  a  full  friend  to  a  woman; 
she's  always  a  woman  to  him!" 

"And  I  suppose  you  want  me  to  believe  that 
a  woman  can  be  friendly  to  a  man  in  total  dis- 
regard of  his  sex,"  I  retorted;  "receive  him  in 
curl-papers,  pigtail  and  an  old  dressing  gown!" 

73 


IN  THE  DAEK 

"That's  no  test,"  she  said  unfairly.  "But, 
to  go  back  to  Mr.  Curlew,  I  think  the  idea  which 
you  suggested,  which  shall  be  nameless  out  of 
respect  for  your  feelings,  would  really  settle 
him.  Would  you  really  be  willing  to  enlighten 
him  as  to  the  unworthiness  of  the  object  of  his 
pursuit?  I  hope  I  don't  seem  hard-hearted, 
but  I  have  every  right  to  defend  myself  and 
this  is  the  only  real  defense  that  has  ever  oc- 
curred to  me." 

"Certainly,  I'll  slander  you  if  you  wish. 
It's  a  contemptible  part  to  play,  but  it's  cer- 
tainly in  a  good  cause." 

"He  may  be  very  angry,"  she  said,  "but  not 
at  you.  I  mean,  don't — don't — " 

'  *  Don 't  drag  myself  in, "  I  suggested.  ' 1  You 
may  be  sure  that  I  will  not.  I  shall  cast  myself 
for  the  part  of  the  good  Samaritan.  The  vil- 
lain of  the  road  to  Jericho  shall  be  nameless. 
I  do  not  care  to  supply  Mr.  Curlew  with  the 
immediate  object  of  his  wrath.  He'll  probably 
be  watching  for  me  when  I  come  in  to- 
night." 

74 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

"Oh,  that  reminds  me,"  she  cried.  "Dor- 
othy left  word  at  the  hotel  for  me  to  be  sure 
to  telephone  her  before  nine  o'clock.  She  and 
her  husband  had  gone  out  to  dine  with  a  busi- 
ness acquaintance  of  his  when  I  phoned.  I  was 
busy  until  almost  seven  o'clock  getting  moved 
into  my  new  house.  It  must  be  after  nine 
now." 

"Shall  I  have  the  man  drive  to  the  nearest 
phone — or — why  not  let  me  take  you  to  the 
hotel?  We  can  get  there  in  fifteen  minutes." 

"That  would  be  best,"  she  said.  "You  are 
very  thoughtful  and  so  ready  to  help." 

I  would  have  stood  on  my  head  gladly,  to 
hear  her  repeat  that  remark,  in  just  the  same 
intimate,  grateful  tone.  In  a  greedy  moment 
I  pretended  not  to  have  heard  and  said:  "Beg 
pardon."  Then  in  shame  I  hastily  pushed 
open  the  cab-door  and  bawled  to  the  driver  to 
turn  around  and  drive  back  to  the  hotel  she 
named.  Suddenly  I  realized  that  in  fifteen 
minutes  she  would  leave  me.  Of  course,  I 
couldn't  go  in  and  pose  as  a  rescuing  hero 

75 


IN  THE  DAEK 

before  grateful  relatives,  even  if  she  asked  me, 
which  she  probably  would  not  do. 

"I  suppose  that  you  will  stay  some  time  with 
your  sister,  so  that  I  can  not  have  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  you  home,"  I  began  formally,  and 
ended  abruptly;  " Where  shall  I  see  you  to- 
morrow?" 

"  To-morrow  ?"  she  said,  vaguely. 

"It's  Saturday,"  I  answered  inanely.  "I 
mean,  I  shall  wish  to  report  progress  with  Mr. 
Curlew  and  shall  be  free  to  do  so  almost  any 
time." 

"It  depends  on  Dorothy,"  she  said.  "Her 
husband  is  making  only  a  brief  stop  here. 
They  may  leave  about  noon,  perhaps  not  until 
three  or  four  o'clock." 

"Suppose  I  call  for  you  at  five  o'clock — 
at  your  new  home." 

"Oh,  no,"  she  remonstrated.  "He  might  be 
following  you.  I'm  afraid  of  meeting  him 
every  minute  I  spend  in  the  streets  but  I 
wouldn't  risk  his  finding  out  where  I  live  for 
worlds!" 

76 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

"I  have  it,*'  I  exclaimed.  "You  stay  right 
at  the  hotel  after  your  sister  leaves  until  I 
call  for  you.  I'll  telephone  early  in  the  after- 
noon and  learn  the  hour  so  as  not  to  keep  you 
waiting." 

"Perhaps  that  will  be  best,"  she  agreed. 
"Here  we  are  now." 

"Then  I  will  say  good-night.  You  are  sure 
of  finding  your  sister  in,  I  suppose?" 

"I  think  so.  Won't  you  come  in  and  meet 
them?"  The  invitation  was  distinctly  half- 
hearted. 

"  I  'm  sure  you  would  prefer  to  be  left  alone, ' ' 
I  said,  "but" — yielding  to  the  one-minute-more 
impulse,  usually  indulged  in  with  one  hand  on 
the  door-knob — "I'll  step  in  a  moment  until 
you  make  sure  that  they  are  in." 

"Mrs.  Harbury?"  said  the  clerk,  "room — 
ah,  I  forgot — is  this  Miss  Littlefield?  She  left 
a  note." 

I  stood  aside  gazing  idly  around  as  she 
opened  the  message.  Something  about  the 
head  of  a  man  lounging  near  me  caught  my 

77 


IN  THE  DAEK 

roving  eye.  It  looked  unpleasantly  familiar. 
Where  had  I  seen  him  before?  A  sudden  rec- 
ollection came  of  Curlew  as  he  had  turned  away 
the  previous  night  and  walked  sulkily  to  the 
door.  Could  it  be  possible?  I  took  a  careful 
step  or  two  nearer.  The  man  moved  and  ex- 
posed the  face  of  a  stranger — a  most  friendly 
stranger.  I  wanted  to  shake  his  hand!  But 
the  incident  called  my  attention  to  the  risk  of 
dallying  in  a  hotel  corridor.  I  stepped  briskly 
back  to  her  side. 

"Don't  you  think  we  had  better" — I  stopped 
blankly.  She  looked  up  suddenly,  her  eyes  full 
and  piteous. 

"She's  gone,"  she  stammered;  "Dorothy's 
gone!" 

She  stood  undecidedly  pulling  at  her  lip  with 
her  ungloved  fingers. 

"Then  this  is  no  place  for  us,"  I  said  with 
false  cheeriness.  "Back  to  the  cab!"  And 
I  hurried  her  half-protesting  out  to  the  street, 
a  most  pathetic  morsel  of  humanity  as  she  pat- 
tered unwillingly  across  the  tiled  floor. 

78 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

" South  on  Michigan,"  I  told  the  driver. 

"Now  tell  me  just  what  has  happened,"  I 
commanded. 

"It's  nothing,"  she  said,  quickly  regaining 
her  composure.  "Bex  wanted  to  leave  on  the 
9:15  to-night  so  as  to  travel  with  a  man  he's 
doing  business  with  and  he  did  some  telephon- 
ing during  dinner  that  made  it  possible — so 
they  went.  Dorothy  was  so  sorry  that  I  didn't 
telephone.  "We  could  have  had  at  least  a  few 
minutes  together." 

"That's  too  bad.  This  was  a  most  unfortu- 
nate cab  ride  for  you,  I'm  afraid.  It  was  all 
my  fault,"  I  said  insincerely. 

"Not  at  all,"  she  answered.  "If  we  hadn't 
taken  this  ride  that  idea  for  discouraging  Mr. 
Curlew  might  never  have  occurred  to  either  of 
us.  If  you  succeed  with  that,  I  shall  call  this 
the  most  fortunate  evening  I  ever  spent." 

"If  that's  your  feeling,"  I  said  enthusiastic- 
ally, "I  shall  have  no  scruples.  I  shall  paint 
you  with  a  heart  of  midnight  and  a  cloak  of 
scarlet!  Henceforth  to  him  your  name  shall 

79 


IN  THE  DARK 

be  anathema!  By  the  way,  what  name  shall 
I  make  anathema?" 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  clutching  my  arm  excit- 
edly, "I  almost  forgot.  Oh,  that  would  have 
been  terrible!" 

"Of  course,  I  didn't  see  any  use  in  calling 
you  Miss  Littlefield  if  he  knew  you  as — Gwenn 
Fenton."  That  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever 
pronounced  her  name.  I  realized  the  unique 
importance  of  the  occasion.  Confidentially  I 
almost  had  stage  fright.  But  it  sounded  beau- 
tiful to  me  as  it  rolled  off  the  tongue — Gwenn 
Fenton. 

I  heard  myself  reiterating  it  in  later  days 
— Miss  Fenton,  with  an  air  of  pride — Miss 
Gwenn  Fenton,  pride  and  intimacy  combined, 
— and  then  Gwenn — Gwenn — Gwenn — a  call  in 
solitude  to  The  Woman  Enthroned — Gwenn,  a 
whisper  sent  out  into  the  kind  night  for  the 
wind  to  carry — Gwenn,  a  magical  thought  to 
bring  a  hush  into  the  roar  of  the  day  and  lone- 
liness into  the  crowded  streets — Gwenn,  the 

80 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

final  happiness,  the  murmuring  music  of  re- 
peating her  name — her  name — to  her! 

I  was  drifting  very  rapidly  into  still  more 
maudlin  imaginings,  when  she  upset  my  "bark 
o'  dreams." 

"You  mustn't  by  any  chance  mention  any 
name — that  is  any  real  name.  Give  me  any 
name  you  choose,  but  don't  let  it  be  either  of 
my  real  names." 

"But  he'll  think  he's  mistaken.  I  must  iden- 
tify you  in  some  way  or  he  won't  give  up  the 
chase." 

She  puzzled  for  a  minute  or  two. 

"Tell  him  that  you've  seen  this,"  she  said, 
suddenly.  She  pulled  off  her  glove  and  then 
a  ring  from  her  little  finger  of  her  left  hand. 
I  switched  on  the  interior  electric  light. 

It  was  a  simple  thing,  a  narrow  band  of 
gold  holding  a  small  ruby,  deeply  set. 

"Look,"  she  said,  and  I  read  engraved  in 
script  on  the  inside:  "George  to  Agnes." 

' '  Agnes  was  my  mother 's  name.  Don 't  men- 
81 


IN  THE  DARK 

tion  my  name  but  simpy  describe  this  ring  and 
say  that  I  said  it  was  my  mother's.  This  is 
very  important.  I  suppose  it  all  seems 
strange,  but  if  you  really  wish  to  help,  this 
is  the  way  to  do  it.  Yet  why  should  you  help ! ' ' 

Of  course,  it  was  a  grand  opportunity  to  lay 
one  hand  on  my  heart,  seize  her  fingers  with 
the  other  and,  following  all  the  canons  of  popu- 
lar fiction,  remark  in  tense,  dulcet  tones :  '  *  Be- 
cause I  love  you!"  But  a  bachelor  of  thirty- 
five  doesn't  act  that  way  on  one  day's  acquaint- 
ance. He  may  think  like  a  fool,  he  may  be  a 
fool,  but  he  has  learned  to  conceal  it  partially. 
Recognizing  the  value  of  darkness  I  turned  the 
electric  button.  But  the  only  tribute  paid  to 
the  near  presence  of  Romance  was  a  slight  blur 
in  my  words. 

"I'm  very  glad  to  help.  I  lead  a  selfish, 
humdrum  life  most  of  the  time."  Of  course, 
I  didn  't  believe  this,  but  it  sounded  well.  * '  It 's 
very  interesting,  actually  delightful,  to  think 
that  I  can  be  of  any  real  service  to  one  whom 
it  must  always  be  a  pleasure  to  serve. ' '  Pretty 

82 


THE  NEXT  DAY 

near  the  edge,  old  boy,  and  on  stilts,  too,  a 
risky  position. 

She  chuckled  slyly. 

"You  said  that  just  like  a  nice,  old  gentle- 
man," she  remarked,  abstractedly.  "I  wonder 
why  you  use  such  odd,  stilted  phrases  now  and 
then.  You  almost  embarrass  me  with  them. 
It  doesn't  seem  really  cordial." 

"Probably  if  I  were  more  cordial,  I'd  em- 
barrass you  more,"  I  retorted. 

"Does  the  driver  know  where  he  is  going?" 
she  said  abruptly. 

"He  will,"  I  said,  "if  you  will  tell  me  your 
present  address.  Or  is  that  another  thing  I 
mustn't  know?" 

She  gave  the  street  and  number  without  com- 
ment and  I  repeated  it  to  the  driver.  Then  I 
sat  back  glumly.  I  could  hear  her  tapping  one 
hand  nervously  upon  the  other. 

"Mr.  Winston,"  she  said  softly.  Her  voice 
shook  slightly.  "Maybe  I  can  tell  you  every- 
thing before  long.  I'm  not  deceiving  you,  but 
some  secrets  are  not  my  secrets  to  give  away. 

83 


IN  THE  DARK 

It  is  a  valueless  gift,  but  I  have  given  you  a 
great  deal  of  trust  in  telling  you  what  I  have. 
Can't  you  trust  me  for  a  little  while?" 

I  restrained  a  violent  inclination  to  hug  her, 
not  to  " embrace"  her,  but  just  simply  to  hug 
her,  as  one  hugs  an  adorable  child.  As  usual 
I  compromised. 

"Here's  my  hand  on  it,"  I  said,  and  then 
shamelessly  took  both  her  hands  in  mine  and 
held  them  close.  "I'm  with  you,  first,  last,  and 
all  the  time." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  breathing  quickly. 

The  cab  stopped. 

' '  This  is  the  place, ' '  I  heard  dimly. 

I  clung  to  my  prizes  for  another  precious 
moment. 

"Yours  to  command,"  I  said  thickly.  Then 
I  opened  the  door. 

She  ran  lightly  up  the  steps  and  turned  the 
key  in  the  lock. 

"At  five  to-morrow?"  she  asked,  pausing  in 
the  half-open  door.  I  had  almost  forgotten. 

84 


THE  NEXT  DAY 


. . 


'Why  not  earlier?  I'll  look  for  you  in  the 
writing  room  at,  say — ' 

"Three,"  she  suggested. 

"Or  two?" 

"Very  well,  at  two."  An  attempt  at  prim- 
ness, but  I  was  not  deceived.  "Good-night." 

The  door  was  closed. 

I  gave  the  driver  my  house  number  and  un- 
consciously squared  my  shoulders  as  the  car 
lurched  forward.  I  was  on  my  way  to  meet 
the  violent  Mr.  Curlew  and  tell  him  a  few 
things  which  he  would  not  be  pleased  to  hear. 
I  had  all  of  a  man's  job  ahead  of  me.  But 
then,  I  felt  like  two ! 


85 


CHAPTEE  V 

ON   THE   STAIRS 

AS  I  mounted  the  last  few  steps  the  door 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs  opened  sud- 
denly and  Curlew  stepped  into  the  hall.    Dis- 
appointment and  anxiety  wrought  vivid  lines 
in  his  strong  face. 

"You  have  seen  her,"  he  half -accused,  half- 
hegged.  "Did  you  tell  her?" 

I  stopped  abruptly  a  step  or  two  below  him. 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  her  and  I  spoke  with  her 
about  you." 

"That  she  might  be  mistaken?" 

"Yes.  But  I  think  that  you  are  the  one 
who  has  been  mistaken.  I  can  hardly  believe 
that  she  is  the  one  for  whom  you  have  been 
searching. ' ' 

"Don't  play  with  me,"  he  said  harshly.  "I 
saw;  I  know." 

86 


ON  THE  STAIES 


"What  do  you  mean?  You  saw  her! 
When?  How?  Why  are  you  sure?" 

"I  walked  out  on  the  porch  last  night,"  he 
explained,  with  an  obvious  effort  at  control. 
"I  glanced  in.  She  was  sitting  before  the  fire. 
I  had  only  an  oblique  view  through  the  cur- 
tains, but  it  seemed  to  be  her  face.  Then  I 
saw  her  hand  plainly  and  the  ring.  I  knew! 
You  came  in.  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  I 
watched  off  and  on  through  the  evening.  After 
you  put  out  the  lights  I  saw  you  go  down  the 
hall  to  your  room.  It's  lucky  you  did!"  A 
fierce  interjection.  "I  waited  until  I  thought 
she  would  be  asleep  and  not  hear  my  footsteps. 
Then  I  came  in  to  have  it  out  with  you!  I 
acted  on  impulse — that's  my  way!  I  didn't 
know  just  what  I  meant  to  do  but  I  intended 
to  find  out — and  perhaps  to  punish!  Your 
plain  ignorance  dashed  me,  left  me  simply 
bound  to  see  her. 

" That's  all  the  story.  Now  talk  square  to 
me.  I'm  not  mistaken." 

"No,"  I  said  carefully.  "I  can  add  a  word 
87 


IN  THE  DAEK 

about  the  ring.  Inside  it  is  engraved: 
'George  to  Agnes/  " 

"That's  it,"  he  flashed  back.  "I  knew  it 
was  she.  Her  mother's  ring." 

The  identification  was  complete — my  first 
task.  Now  came  the  dangerous  second  under- 
taking— to  turn  him  from  her  and  not  inci- 
dentally to  turn  his  rage  on  me.  Irrespective 
of  all  natural  desire  to  avoid  attack  from  this 
powerful  wild  man,  I  saw  no  possible  benefit 
to  the  lady  in  question  from  having  her  faith- 
ful servant  throttled  and  thrown  downstairs. 
Of  course,  Curlew  might  be  forced  to  flee  the 
country  but  to  me,  in  a  hospital  bed  or  still 
more  dismal  place,  that  would  be  a  sorry  tri- 
umph! 

"I  don't  wish  to  be  brutal,"  I  said,  "but 
she  does  not  appear  anxious  to  see  you." 

"She  doesn't  understand,"  he  muttered. 

"It  isn't  that,  exactly,"  I  replied.  "I  don't 
know  how  to  explain  her  attitude  to  you,  with- 
out upsetting  you  so  that,  with  what  I  know 
and  have  heard  about  your  temper,  you  are 


ON  THE  STAIRS 

unlikely  to  hear  me  through.  If  you  '11  get  hold 
of  yourself  I'll  try." 

He  was  actually  shaking,  his  strong  hands 
clasping  and  unclasping  and  the  veins  bulging 
out  on  his  temples.  So  my  demand  was  cer- 
tainly reasonable. 

"Go  ahead,"  he  commanded.  "I'll  do  my 
part." 

"First,"  I  said,  "you  must  understand  that 
I  never  met  her  until  last  night.  I  found  her 
in  trouble — played  out,  starving  in  fact — and 
befriended  her  purely  from  a  sentiment  of  com- 
mon decency." 

"For  which  I  thank  you,"  he  said,  tensely. 

"I  hadn't  the  faintest  responsibility  for  the 
causes  that  brought  her  to  such  a  pass." 

He  shuddered  and  an  accusation  leaped  from 
his  eyes  with  a  flash  as  of  a  knife. 

"What  causes?"  he  demanded. 

"Nor  can  I  answer  that.  The  lady  has  con- 
fided in  me  but  little  and  that  little  unwillingly. 
She  is  again  in  the  hands  of  friends  and  my 
interest  in  her  need  go  no  further. ' '  That  was 

89 


IN  THE  DARK 

certainly  an  evasive  statement.  "But  I  prom- 
ised to  try  to  convey  an  idea  to  you  and  per- 
haps I  owe  it  to  you  to  do  so." 

"Can't  you  come  to  the  point?"  His  thin 
restraint  was  crackling  under  the  strain. 

"If  you  don't  get  a  grip  on  yourself  there 
won't  be  any  point,"  I  responded  indignantly. 
"If  you  think  I'm  going  to  meddle  in  an  affair 
that  doesn't  concern  me  and  tell  a  man  in  your 
state  of  mind  something  that  will  enrage  him 
you're  mistaken.  I'll  see  you  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

I  made  a  move  toward  my  door. 

"Please,"  he  said,  stretching  out  his  hand. 
"I'm  under  great  strain,  Mr.  Winston,  but  I'll 
not  forget  myself." 

While  his  softened  mood  lasted  I  hurried  to 
the  climax. 

"You're  not  pursuing  this  woman  for  a 
crime,  are  you  ? ' ' 

"No." 

"As  I  understand  it  you  are  pursuing  her 
for  just  the  other  reason,  because  you  look 

90 


ON  THE  STAIRS 

upon  her  as  a  pure,  good  woman;  you  desire 
to  find  her  because  she  is  such  a  woman,  one 
who  could  be  pursued  as  an  ideal — such  a 
woman  as  an  honorable  man  might  desire  for 
a  wife.  Am  I  right?" 

"Yes."    He  was  twisting  his  hands  again. 

"Then  my  advice,  which  is  her  advice,  is  that 
you  had  better  quit!" 

A  horrible  moment  passed,  while  the  storm 
gathered. 

"God" — he  began  in  a  low  tone,  broken  with 
anger — "God" — he  started  again  in  a  higher 
key — and  then  the  cloudburst  of  his  wrath 
swamped  him  utterly.  He  was  in  no  way  dan- 
gerous to  me.  Tossing  his  arms  backward  and 
forward  he  vainly  struggled  for  words,  for  con- 
trol of  his  nerveless  muscles.  His  tanned  skin 
became  a  ruddy  bronze.  At  last  he  sank  back 
against  his  door  exhausted,  clutching  at  his 
throat,  pawing  at  his  tangled  hair. 

Short,  unrelated  phrases  came  between  his 
trembling  lips. 

"All  my  life — God  knows — mistakes,  mis- 
91 


IN  THE  DARK 

takes — my  fault — years  and  years — never, 
never — finished,  done — too  late — " 

His  gaze  fixed  itself  for  a  moment  on  me 
as  I  stood  across  the  hall  watching  him  anx- 
iously. 

''To-morrow/'  he  whispered.  "To-mor- 
row. ' ' 

He  stumbled  through  his  door  and  swung 
it  shut  behind  him. 

I  turned  the  key  and  walked  into  my  apart- 
ment. 

My  sister  was  standing  in  the  center  of  her 
room!  As  I  paused  amazed  in  the  doorway 
she  lifted  her  eyes  from  the  rumpled  bed  and 
stared  at  me,  a  personification  of  Zola's  his- 
toric: "J 'accuse!" 


92 


CHAPTEK  VI 

ENTEE,   THE   FAMILY 

ttTTTHEN  did  you  arrive?"  I  demanded. 
T  T.  "Why  didn't  you  telegraph  me?" 
There  was  some  advantage  in  attacking  first. 

"About  an  hour  ago,"  she  said  curtly.  "It 
appears  that  I  should  have  telegraphed.  I 
trust  I'm  not  discommoding  you!" 

" Certainly  not!"  I  proclaimed,  disregard- 
ing her  unkindly  accent.  "How  was  Mrs.  Le- 
row  and  all  the  little  Lerows?  Mr.  Lerow  as 
plump  as  ever?" 

"All  very  well,"  she  returned  frigidly. 
"Pardon  me,  Gilbert,  but  I  should  much  pre- 
fer if  you  would  leave  my  room  unoccupied 
in  my  absence!" 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  vaguely,  wholly  at  a 
loss  as  to  whether  to  conceal  or  reveal.  I  had 
had  no  opportunity  to  anticipate  this  situation 

93 


IN  THE  DAEK 

and  think  it  out.  It  simply,  suddenly  was. 
''Of  course,  if  you  object  to  any  friend  of 
mine — "  I  stopped,  appalled  as  she  reached 
down  slowly  and  removed  a  large  hairpin  from 
the  significant  hollow  in  the  pillow.  She  in- 
spected it  carefully,  looked  at  me  steadily  for 
a  moment,  twisting  her  lip  in  a  most  irritating 
manner,  and  then  cast  the  unfortunate  article 
into  a  convenient  waste  basket. 

"A  friend,"  she  remarked  with  lifted  eye- 
brows; "were  it  not  vulgar  curiosity,  I  should 
be  much  interested  to  know  her  name. — Yes, 
Mr.  Lerow  was  as  plump  as  ever.  I  believe 
you  inquired  about  him."  She  turned  casu- 
ally toward  her  dressing  table.  The  substan- 
tial lines  of  her  well-corseted  figure  irritated 
me  with  their  smug,  silent  assertion  of  com- 
placent conventionality.  She  smoothed  down 
her  hips  with  an  unconscious  approbation  of  a 
body  so  fit  as  an  expression  of  her  ideas,  of 
good  substance,  well-molded  and  pleasing,  but 
neither  alluring  nor  inspiring.  She  regarded 
herself  as  a  conservative,  but  as  a  static  mental 

94 


ENTER,  THE  FAMILY 

condition  is  impossible  and  she  shrank  from 
progressive  ideas,  she  exhibited  a  gentle  in- 
tellectual retrogression  which,  as  the  years 
passed,  alternately  amused  and  irritated  me. 
It  would  have  saved  me  much  discomfort  could 
I  have  kept  my  recent  adventure  wholly  from 
her,  but  since  that  was  now  impossible  I  must 
answer  a  hard  question.  Should  I  leave  her 
free  to  indulge  in  untamed  suspicions  and  self- 
justified  in  watchful  distrust  of  all  my  actions, 
or  should  I  give  her  a  definite  object  of  worry, 
insuring  but  limiting  the  inevitable  vexation 
of  her  maternal  vigilance  ? 

"Dora,"  I  made  a  quick  decision,  "I  have 
a  very  interesting  story  to  tell  you.  I  didn't 
intend  to  tell  you  since  I  assumed,  of  course, 
you  would  misunderstand.  A  woman  never  ac- 
cepts a  man's  version  of  another  woman's  trou- 
bles. If  you  will  honestly  try  to  get  my  point 
of  view,  I'll  explain  this  circumstantial  evi- 
dence of  nonexistent  wickedness." 

1  'I  shall  probably  get  your  point  of  view, 
Gilbert,"  she  answered,  "but  I  can't  promise 

95 


IN  THE  DARK 

to  agree  with  it.  Go  on  with  your  calcimined 
scandal. ' ' 

"There  is  no  scandal,"  I  snapped,  "and  I 
am  not  going  to  wield  a  whitewash  brush.  In 
few  words,  I  found  a  woman  starving  in  the 
park,  brought  her  here  and  fed  her.  She  was 
played  out  and  slept  for  a  short  time  in  your 
room.  Then  she  went  away." 

Dora  eyed  me  skeptically.  I  was  quite  earn- 
est and  also  honest,  though  hardly  candid,  I'll 
admit.  But,  with  that  infernal  sense  some- 
times called  "woman's  intuition,"  she  seemed 
to  know  that  something  was  kept  back.  She 
began  the  inevitable  cross-examination. 

"The  lady's  age?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  I  was  most  vague. 
"She  was  no  child,  quite  thin,  not  a  beauty." 

"Evidently  attractive,  however,"  she  re- 
marked inconsistently. 

"Why  on  earth!"  I  began. 

"Just  your  manner.  You  wished  me  to  be- 
lieve that  she  was  an  impossible  subject  for 
attraction,  so  I  immediately  assumed  attrac- 

96 


ENTER,  THE  FAMILY 

tion!"  She  smiled  knowingly.  Assault  and 
battery  suggested  itself  to  me.  "What  is  the 
lady's  name?"  she  continued.  "Does  she  live 
here  or  was  she  just  passing  through  town? 
How  did  she  happen  to  be  starving?  Where 
has  she  gone  f  Do  you  expect  to  see  her  again ! 
Really  I'm  very  excited,  Gilbert.  I'm  just 
bursting  with  questions." 

"So,  I  observe,  but  I  don't  like  your  attitude 
and  see  no  reason  for  answering." 

In  the  language  of  prize  fighting,  the  gong 
had  rung ;  the  brother-sister  battle  which  made 
a  briefly  exciting  break  in  our  household  rou- 
tine every  few  weeks  was  on!  As  usual  in  all 
domestic  quarrels  between  male  and  female  I 
found  that  I  did  not  have  the  "punch"  and 
finally  "took  the  count,"  "threw  up  the 
sponge,"  turned  a  back  somersault  through  a 
hoop  and  indulged  in  similar  male  confessions 
of  defeat.  She  accomplished  what  she  had  set 
out  to  accomplish.  She  expected  to.  I  ex- 
pected to  be  beaten.  So  the  result  was  in- 
evitable. "The  Female  of  the  Species"  is — un- 

97 


IN  THE  DARK 

doubtedly.    I  always  take  great  comfort  in  Kip- 
ling after  these  bouts. 

"Since  you  insist  on  making  a  mountain  out 
of  a  mole-hill  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  story, " 
was  the  form  of  my  surrender.  Whereupon  I 
proceeded,  with  a  wealth  of  detail  which  would 
have  made  an  ant-heap  resemble  a  Himalaya, 
to  give  the  facts  of  the  case,  carefully  var- 
nished, omitting  all  reference  to  my  psychologi- 
cal disturbances  and  any  minor  points  that 
might  suggest  romantic  interest.  Dora  was 
deeply,  genuinely  interested;  at  times  sympa- 
thetic; but  she  became  hardened  again  before 
I  finished. 

"Evidently  his  wife,"  she  pronounced 
firmly.  "Probably  she  left  him  on  account  of 
some  crime  or  something  worse"  (a  vague  pos- 
sibility!) "and  now  he  wants  her  to  take  him 
back.  I'm  glad  to  hear  that  her  troubles  are 
over,  so  that  you  need  not  play  knight  errant 
any  more.  It's  the  sort  of  thing  that  I 
shouldn't  think  would  help  anyone  in  the  bond- 
ing business." 

98 


ENTER,  THE  FAMILY 

"You  always  have  the  weirdest  idea  of  the 
sanctity  of  my  business, ' '  I  explained. 

"I  think  you  were  very  foolish,"  she  con- 
tinued, ' '  to  mix  up  in  the  affair  further  by  car- 
rying a  message  to  her  husband  that  she  posi- 
tively refused  to  see  him."  This  had  been  my 
expurgated  version.  The  other  idea  seemed  to 
imply  too  much  intimacy.  Dora  would  never 
have  understood.  "Still,  that's  over  with 
now. ' ' 

"Yes,  thank  goodness!"  I  said.  "Let's  talk 
about  something  else.  What  kind  of  a  time  did 
you  have  East?" 

"Very  pleasant,"  she  said.  "Just  one  word 
more  about  this  affair.  Are  you  quite  sure  this 
girl  didn't  attract  you  considerably?  Have 
you  no  further  interest  in  her?" 

"Now  you  are  taking  that  motherly  tone 
again,"  I  answered  heatedly.  "I  wish  you 
would  realize  that  you  are  three  years  younger 
than  I  am;  that  I  have  managed  to  exist  for 
thirty-five  years  without  ever  taking  your  ad- 
vice when  it  didn't  agree  with  my  own  and  I 

99 


IN  THE  DARK 

don't  need  it  or  ask  it  in  regard  to  this  affair." 
"Of  course,  I  have  no  influence  with  you," 
she  said,  self -pityingly,  "which  is  very  unfortu- 
nate. You  made  a  terrible  mess  of  that  affair 
with  Mrs.  Bates,  so  that  naturally  the  family  is 
anxious  whenever  you  seem  started  on  any- 
thing queer." 

"Hang  the  family,"  I  decreed,  viciously. 
"After  everyone  concerned  has  forgiven  and 
forgotten  the  family  still  insists  on  conscien- 
tiously 'rubbing  it  in.'  " 

The  Bates  affair  had  been  a  harmless  folly 
of  my  adolescence,  which  would  have  passed 
away  of  indifference,  but  in  its  dying  moments 
an  officious  relative  on  my  side  had  worked  upon 
the  feelings  of  an  officious  relative  on  the  other 
side  and  a  starving  folly  had  been  rapidly 
energized  into  a  lusty  transgression  that  only 
required  the  attention  of  the  lewd  press  to  ma- 
ture into  an  inexcusable  sin.  Happily,  through 
the  combination  of  the  sane  Mr.  Bates,  the 
frank  Mrs.  Bates  and  my  scared  self — the  only 
persons  either  properly  or  vitally  interested — 

100 


ENTER,  THE  FAMILY 

the  fomentations  of  imaginative  reporters  had 
been  avoided  and  the  swollen  folly  neatly 
chloroformed  and  put  out  of  its  misery.  De- 
spite the  fact  that  all  the  interested  parties  re- 
main fast  friends  to  this  date  my  relatives  have 
never  wearied  of  citing  "the  Bates  mess"  as 
a  sample  of  the  sort  of  villainy  to  be  expected  of 
me  should  I  ever  be  left  without  the  services 
of  the  family  prognosticators. 

"You  know  that  there  never  was  any  Bates 
affair,"  I  added. 

"I've  heard  both  sides,"  she  said,  signifi- 
cantly. 

"Yes,  you've  heard  the  wrong  side  and  the 
outside,"  I  retorted;  "so  you  feel  free  to  criti- 
cise the  man  inside.  If  you  try  to  make  a 
'Bates  mess'  out  of  this  affair,  Dora,  I  shall 
move  promptly.  I  don't  intend  that  either 
Miss  Littlefield  or  I  shall  be  subjected  to  pry- 
ing, gossipy  annoyance." 

"So,  you  expect  to  see  her  again!"  she  cried. 
"You  intend  to  pay  attentions  to  another  mar- 
ried woman!" 

101 


IN  THE  DARK 


. .  i 


;She  isn't  married,"  my  exasperation 
choked  me.  "If  I  wish  to  see  her,  whose  busi- 
ness is  it?" 

"Apparently  the  man  across  the  hall  thinks 
it  is  his ! '  *  That  shot  hit  where  it  hurt ! 

"I  shall  find  out  whether  it  is  or  not,  before 
involving  myself,"  I  answered  weakly. 

"Assuming  that  he  is  only  her  divorced  hus- 
band," said  Dora  irritatingly,  "I  judge  that 
you  have  determined  on  serious  attentions. 
That  properly  interests  the  family.  Her  name, 
you  say,  is  Miss  Littlefield.  Where  does  she 
come  from?" 

"That  is  her  affair,"  I  replied  sullenly. 

"Evidently  you  don't  know.  Do  you  know 
anything  about  her  family?" 

"Certainly.  Her  brother-in-law  is  with  a 
big  Detroit  concern,  a  director  in  a  company 
here  with  which  I  do  business.  Know  all  about 
him."  A  slight  exaggeration.  "Rex  Har- 
bury  is  his  name." 

"Do  you  know  him?" 

"Not  personally,  but  by  reputation." 
102 


ENTER,  THE  FAMILY 

"Still,  I  suppose  if  she  said  he  was  her  broth- 
er-in-law that  proves  it.  Of  course,  he  wasn't 
at  the  hotel  when  you  called,  but  he  had  prob- 
ably been  there." 

"Dora,"  I  broke  forth,  "you  are  perfectly 
absurd.  Do  you  think  this  woman  would  lie 
to  me  about  things  I  could  check  up  so  quickly 
— even  assuming  that  she  would  lie  at  all,  which 
idea  I  distinctly  resent ! ' ' 

"I  suppose  not,"  she  replied  calmly.  "But 
the  whole  affair  is  so  strange,  Gilbert,  starving 
woman,  pursuing  wild  man,  disappearing  rela- 
tives, that  it  might  be  a  game  to  drag  an  inno- 
cent man  in  pretty  deep  in  a  few  days." 

Of  course,  that  was  a  very  nasty  suggestion 
for  Dora  to  make.  No  man  likes  to  be  made 
a  fool  or  a  tool.  The  whole  business  was  queer. 
Curlew's  spotting  her  immediately  upon  her 
arrival  at  my  house,  his  attack,  her  flight,  her 
return,  my  second  encounter,  all  followed  each 
other  in  an  order  suggestive  of  an  arranged 
scheme.  Yet — everyone  was  so  genuine;  she 
certainly  was  worn  out,  half-starved;  Curlew 

103 


IN  THE  DAEK 

was  obviously  overwrought  all  the  time;  her 
subsequent  secrecies  and  revelations  were  so 
natural.  Well,  if  it  were  all  a  play  it  was  such 
a  one  as  a  man  is  permitted  to  see  and  act  in 
but  few  times  in  a  life.  I  could  not  see  that 
I  had  paid  heavily  as  yet  and  certainly  I  was 
not  going  into  the  future  blindly.  Then  the 
girl — Gwenn — no,  no — no  jealous  sister  could 
weaken  my  confidence  in  her.  The  whole  play 
revolved  around  her;  but  she  was  no  actress, 
she  was  sweet,  honest  womanhood  clear 
through.  I'd  stake  more  than  a  domestic  row 
on  that.  In  my  mental  enthusiasm  I  slipped 
over  the  bounds  of  discretion  on  my  first  ut- 
terance. 

"If  that  woman  isn't  the  truest,  purest,  most 
lovable  woman  I've  met  in  many  a  day  my 
judgment  of  human  nature  is  so  worthless  that 
I'd  better  quit  the  bonding  business  to-morrow. 
It  will  take  more  than  family  hallucinations  to 
alter  that  opinion. ' ' 

"It's  high  time,"  said  Dora  decisively,  "that 
the  family  took  an  interest  in  this  affair." 

104 


ENTEE,  THE  FAMILY 

"It's  high  time  you  went  to  bed,"  I  an- 
swered, pettishy.  "In  the  morning  light,  you 
may  see  yourself,  instead  of  your  brother,  in 
a  foolish  aspect." 

"To-morrow  I  shall  see  Edith,"  she  an- 
nounced. "Perhaps  you  will  listen  to  her." 

"Tell  Edith  to  talk  to  brother-in-law,"  I  sug- 
gested. "Since  you  are  going  to  drag  all  the 
family  in,  why  leave  out  Carfax,  the  only  sensi- 
ble one  in  the  lot?" 

"You  say  that  because  he  is  a  man,"  said 
Dora  sagely.  "He  is  too  tolerant  anyway, 
stands  everything.  Frankly,  I  think  he  stands 
too  much  from  Edith.  I've  been  meaning  to 
speak  to  her  about  her  last  flirtation.  I  heard 
about  it  from — let  me  see — who  was  it  ? " 

' '  Call  her  Mrs.  Grundy, ' '  I  said.  ' '  So  Edith, 
dear  sister  Edith,  who  is  to  aid  you  in  pro- 
tecting me,  is  herself  not  quite  up  to  standard  ? 
You  must  feel  terribly  isolated,  Dora,  away  off 
there  on  that  cloud-capped,  ice-covered  peak  of 
perfect  propriety.  Go  to  bed,  Dora.  Have  a 
good  sleep.  You  won't  feel  your  responsibili- 

105 


IN  THE  DAEK 

ties  so  heavily  in  the  morning.  If  you  only  had 
a  sense  of  humor  I  should  know  that  you'd 
burst  out  laughing  at  breakfast.'* 

As  I  marched  down  the  hall  to  my  room  she 
called  after  me  defiantly : 

"I  have  a  sense  of  humor.  But  I  shall  go  to 
see  Edith,  just  the  same!'* 


106 


CHAPTER  VII 

A   FOOTBALL    GAME 

A  S  I  opened  my  door  at  about  eight-thirty 
-£*  the  next  morning  and  stepped  into  the 
outer  hall,  the  door  opposite  swung  back. 
Curlew,  who  had  evidently  been  watching  again, 
confronted  me.  His  eyes  were  clouded  with 
red,  the  lines  under  them  seemed  deeper,  his 
hair  was  rumpled,  his  clothes  disordered,  his 
collar  soiled,  cravat  half-untied.  His  appear- 
ance bespoke  plainly  the  man  who  had  been  up 
all  night. 

' '  Did  you  mean  what  you  said  last  night,  Mr. 
Winston  f"  he  demanded. 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  "I  meant  just  what  I 
said,  no  more,  no  less." 

Looking  into  his  miserable,  passion-wrecked 
face  it  was  almost  impossible  for  me  to  persist 
in  my  deceitful  assertion.  This  man's  spirit 

107 


IN  THE  DAEK 

was  in  torment  and  its  agony  had  bred  bodily 
distress  so  plainly  and  pitifully  exhibited  on 
his  drawn  features  and  in  his  drooping  neck 
that  nothing  seemed  to  justify  me  in  refusing 
him  relief. 

"I  am  going  away,"  he  said  slowly.  "After 
a  time  I  shall  return.  Meanwhile  I  shall  think 
it  over.  Do  you  expect  to  see  her  again?" 

"I  could,"  I  said.  "Do  you  wish  me  to  take 
a  message!" 

"Yes,  please."  He  drew  a  deep  breath  with 
apparent  effort.  "Tell  her  that  I  shall  not 
bother  her.  But  ask  her — no — tell  her  I  shall 
often  think  about  things  that  are  past  and  that 
I  hope  she  will  think  about  them,  sometimes. 
After  I've  thought  it  all  out  I  may  come  back 
— or  I  may  not.  If  I  come,  I  will  seek  you  out, 
Mr.  Winston,  and  I  may  ask  you  to  carry  an- 
other message  to  her." 

"I  will  do  so  gladly,"  I  replied,  welcoming 
the  opportunity  to  say  something  sincere  and 
to  offer  even  a  small  service  to  this  unhappy 
man. 

108 


A  FOOTBALL  GAME 

' '  Thank  you, ' '  he  said.    ' '  Good-bye. ' ' 

He  turned  and  shuffled  through  his  door, 
dragging  himself  wearily  across  the  threshold. 
For  a  moment  1  glimpsed  the  grisly  spectre  of 
a  smile  that  he  strove  to  bring  to  his  set  lips  as 
he  nodded  farewell.  Then  the  closing  door 
mercifully  relieved  me  of  the  piteous  sight. 

From  home  to  office  I  passed  a  most  gloomy 
half-hour.  Any  conscientious  man,  deeply 
fond  of  a  woman,  yet  finding  his  devotion  to 
her  desires  the  cause  of  wretchedness  to  others, 
must  question  himself  severely.  Was  I 
blinded  by  physical  attraction  and  unable  to 
see  the  mental  and  moral  weaknesses  of  my 
idol  ?  This  man  whom  she  dreaded  was  plainly 
not  all  bad.  She  had  said  as  much  herself.  It 
seemed  as  though  it  ought  not  to  be  necessary 
for  her  to  shun  him  as  a  thing  accursed,  to  re- 
fuse even  to  see  him,  to  discourage  him  with  a 
deception  fraught  with  such  pain — a  pain  that 
proved  the  strength  of  his  attachment  and  the 
honesty  of  his  purpose. 

Her  image,  that  constantly  rose  to  oppose  my 
109 


IN  THE  DAEK 

doubts,  I  resolutely  denied.  Mere  outward 
semblance  should  not  influence  me  to  believe  in 
inward  integrity!  Yet  deny  as  I  would  I  felt 
her  steadfast  gray  eyes  fixed  on  me  appealing, 
reproaching,  wondering  that  one  should  be  so 
deep  in  love,  so  shallow  in  faith. 

With  the  constraint  of  conflicting  thoughts 
upon  me  I  went  to  meet  her  in  the  afternoon 
but  at  sight  of  her  I  knew  that  I  had 

.  .  .  "given  away 

Mine  ancient  wisdom  and  austere  control. 

.  .  .  lo!  with  a  little  rod 

I  did  but  touch  the  honey  of  romance — 

And  must  I  lose  my  soul's  inheritance?" 

I  suddenly  realized  that  my  precious  "soul's 
inheritance"  was  to  love  and  to  be  loved.  Too 
long  had  I  let  that  capital  lie  idle !  Its  invest- 
ment would  always  be  a  speculation — the  great 
gamble  of  life.  But  alike  for  the  miser  who 
hoarded  and  the  spendthrift  who  wasted  there 
would  be  beggary  in  the  end.  For  everyone 
who  was  to  live  fully  there  must  come  a  time 

110 


A  FOOTBALL  GAME 

for  the  splendid  risk!  That  time  had  come  to 
me. 

"I  have  a  message,"  was  my  greeting.  "He 
is  going  away." 

No  flush  of  pleasure  lit  up  her  face.  She 
looked  at  me  uncertainly  for  a  moment.  Then 
her  glance  shifted. 

"It  was  so  cruel,"  she  said.  "Perhaps  I  did 
wrong. ' ' 

Strange  to  say  I  had  no  impulse  to  inwardly 
rage  at  the  inconsistency  of  woman.  Instead, 
I  felt  brim  full  of  joy.  She,  too,  had  had  her 
hours  of  questioning  the  right  to  strike  so  hard 
a  blow,  v 

"He  is  going  to  think  it  over.  He  may  re- 
turn." 

"Poor  old  Jim,"  the  words  were  hardly 
audible.  "He's  made  a  lot  of  trouble  but  he 
has  always  paid  for  it  bitterly.  I  wish  I  could 
explain  something,  Mr.  Winston,"  she  said 
more  plainly.  "My  relationship  to  his  troubles 
is  not  as  direct  as  you  probably  imagine.  I'm 
not  even  negatively  responsible."  She  paused, 

111 


IN  THE  DARK 

and  then  added  in  personal  appeal.  "Please 
believe  that,  won't  you?" 

"I  will,"  I  affirmed.  To  myself  I  swore  a 
still  more  solemn  oath  that  never  again  would 
I  doubt  her.  Why?  She  had  done  nothing  to 
dispel  any  doubts,  but  I  somehow  realized  that 
while  with  her  I  should  never  be  able  to  doubt, 
and  so  distrust  in  her  absence  must  always  be 
disloyalty.  To  preserve  any  self-respect  I  must 
have  faith. 

"Isn't  there  something  you  would  like  to 
do?"  I  asked.  "The  long  afternoon  is  before 
us." 

"I  didn't  understand  that  this  was  an  after- 
noon engagement,"  she  said,  with  an  accent  of 
mischief.  "You  promised  to  relieve  my  anx- 
iety as  early  as  possible.  I  expected  then  to 
put  in  the  rest  of  the  day  fixing  up  my  new 
room.  I  suppose  you  have  regular  plans  for 
your  Saturday  afternoons.  Did  I  keep  you 
from  golf?" 

"No,"  I  responded,  "I  have  very  few  regu- 
lar habits.  At  this  time  of  year  I  go  to  a  foot- 

112 


ball  game  when  I  can.  But  I  would  like  to  put 
myself  at  your  service  if  I  can  be  serviceable." 
Then  I  added  in  deliberate  unfairness.  ''My 
immediate  usefulness  may  be  over  but  while  I 
don 't  wish  to  force  my  company  on  you,  I  wish 
you  would  accept  it,  if  you  will  risk  being 
bored.  I'm  a  very  prosaic  person  and  realize 
it.  Our  recent  common  adventure  was  a  dash 
of  red  in  a  dull  gray  life.  Probably  that's 
why" — I  stopped;  that  excuse  for  clinging  to 
her  society  would  be  too  palpably  insincere. 

"I'm  not  evading  your  companionship,"  she 
asserted  warmly.  "You  can't  guess  how  wel- 
come it  is  in  my  lonely  life.  I  was  giving  you 
a  chance  to  escape,  if  you  wished  to  take  it." 

"You  evidently  forgot  that  we  promised 
each  other  to  be  friends  last  night."  Then  I 
shifted  hastily  to  safer  ground.  "I  suppose  it 
is  too  late  for  the  theatre,  but  I'll  try  to  get 
seats  if  you  wish." 

"Indoors,  this  gorgeous  afternoon?"  she 
said.  "I'd  love  football,  if  there  is  a  game  and 
it  isn't  too  late." 

113 


IN  THE  DARK 

"Are  you  trying  to  please  me  or  yourself? 
There  is  a  game." 

"No,  I  really  would  like  to  go.'* 

The  crowded  train  and  hurrying  mob  later 
on  the  sidewalk  made  conversation  disjointed 
and  unimportant  until  we  had  reached  our 
seats  in  the  grandstand.  We  had  just  laid 
claim  to  the  thirty-two  inches  of  slivery  board 
allotted  to  us  when  the  joyous  roar,  as  the 
packed  thousands  rose  and  shrieked  in  unison, 
announced  the  kick-off.  For  the  next  ten  min- 
utes civil  war  possessed  our  stand,  the  excit- 
able "stand-ups"  and  the  comfort-loving  "sit- 
downs"  engaging  in  their  weekly,  verbal  battle. 
The  real  combat  in  the  field  resolving  itself 
soon  into  a  close,  hard  struggle  that  lifted  even 
the  sedentary  to  their  supposedly  tired  feet, 
the  secondary  contest  in  the  audience  resulted 
in  speedy  victory  for  the  "stand-ups." 
Whereat  both  my  companion  and  I  rejoiced, 
grinning  at  each  other  in  cordial  sympathy. 

Naturally,  people  sit  in  the  theatre,  at  con- 
certs and  during  similar  peaceful  amusements. 

114 


A  FOOTBALL  GAME 

Even  baseball  games  proceed  at  a  moderate 
tempo,  which  permits  of  attention  to  bodily 
comfort.  But  long  ago  I  gave  up  the  idea  that 
I  could  sit  at  a  football  game,  except  as  a  mar- 
tyr. The  shock  of  personal  combat,  the  im- 
minence of  feats  of  skill  and  daring,  the 
tremendous  excitement  of  the  great  mob,  the 
spectacular  possibilities  of  every  surging  mo- 
ment, all  make  too  big  an  appeal  to  my  emo- 
tions to  allow  even  the  muscular  relaxation 
necessary  to  maintain  a  sitting  posture.  I 
must  be  on  my  feet,  leaning  with  the  runner  or 
pressing  against  him.  This,  of  course,  requires 
that  my  neighbors  understand  the  game  and 
lean  or  press  likewise.  Otherwise  they  will  be 
surprised  at,  and  resent,  my  intrusions.  But 
I  have  restored  an  indignant  stranger  to  his 
seat  beside  me  so  often,  after  having  uncon- 
sciously crowded  him  off  and  thrust  him  into 
another  row,  that  I  am  quite  hardened  to  my 
trespasses.  The  average  spectator,  moreover, 
neither  expects  nor  makes  excuses.  He  sim- 
ply " follows  the  play"  and  trusts  that  some- 

115 


IN  THE  DAEK 

where  in  the  row  a  few  hardy  antagonists  are 
1  'fighting  it  back."  If  not,  the  entire  row  is 
likely  to  be  precipitated  in  one  joyous  heap 
after  a  successful  assault  upon  the  enemy's 
line. 

In  the  frenzied,  self-forgetful  excitement  of 
a  bitter  contest  both  Gwenn  and  I  became  most 
friendly.  I  always  thought  of  her  as  Gwenn 
after  the  moment  when  she  told  me  her  name, 
so  I  am  going  to  speak  of  her  as  I  thought. 
We  yelled  in  each  other's  unheeding  ears  the 
usual  senseless  remarks:  "Look  at  him  go" 
— when  no  one  could  be  looking  at  anything 
else;  "he's  down;  he's  down" — reiteration  of 
an  obvious  fact.  We  shook  hands  on  brilliant 
tackles;  we  declaimed  together  to  a  deaf,  de- 
claiming audience  our  special  joy  in  the 
miraculous  dodging  of  the  famous  half-back. 
We  gripped  each  others  arms  in  straining  min- 
utes when  the  ball  was  carried  relentlessly  to 
within  a  yard  of  our  goal.  We  howled  joint 
relief  when  the  mighty  right  leg  of  our  kicker 
drove  the  battle  line  back  forty-five  yards. 

116 


A  FOOTBALL  GAME 

Yes,  there  was  no  doubt  about  it;  she  loved 
football.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  knew  as  I 
watched  her  flushed  face  that  I  could  never 
have  really  loved  a  woman  who  knew  the  game 
and  didn't  love  it.  Surely  only  an  anaemic 
could  fail  to  find  pleasure  in  the  richness  of 
physical  sensations  which  football  can  inspire. 

We  were  sitting  comfortably  exhausted  dur- 
ing the  interinission  when  she  turned  to  me  and 
said: 

"Did  he  take  it  hard?  Was  he  angry  at 
you?  How  did  you  do  it?" 

"Oh,  Curlew,"  I  said,  jolted  back  to  sober 
things.  "He  didn't  take  it  easily,  but  he  held 
onto  himself  well.  I  used  an  evasive  but  pretty 
plain  form  of  expression.  I  said  that  if  he 
thought  he  was  pursuing  a  pure,  good  woman, 
he'd  better  quit." 

She  looked  away  and  the  scarlet  flowed  over 
her  neck  and  up  into  the  tantalizing  tendrils  of 
hair  that  half-covered  her  neat,  little  ears. 
After  a  long  time  she  looked  back  at  me  and 
said  over  her  shoulder : 

117 


IN  THE  DAEK 

"Does  a  lie  rest  very  heavily  on  your  con- 
science f ' ' 

"I'm  not  a  good  liar.  But,"  I  asserted 
stoutly,  "that  deception  hasn't  worried  me.  It 
was  so  necessary  to  disturb  him  and  too  pre- 
posterous to  bother  anyone  else." 

"Thank  you — twice,"  she  said. 

Happily  the  squads  returned  for  the  second 
half  at  this  moment  and  our  common  embar- 
rassment was  soon  lost  in  our  common  anxiety 
for  the  local  team,  on  whom  their  opponents 
had  scored  by  a  clever  trick  within  the  first 
two  minutes  of  play.  Again  we  swayed  and 
shouted  in  the  rare  abandon  so  seldom  per- 
mitted to  the  sober  citizen  yet  so  deeply  rest- 
ful for  his  taut  nerves.  The  struggle  on  the 
field  became  more  absorbing  every  moment 
and,  lifted  out  of  the  starchy  forms  of  early 
acquaintance,  we  rollicked  like  old  friends  over 
the  exciting  incidents  of  play.  It  was  one  of 
those  rare  games  that  justify  the  typical  mag- 
azine football  story. 

With  but  a  few  minutes  left  the  home  team 
118 


A  FOOTBALL  GAME 

tied  the  score  and  the  quivering  stands  cast 
forth  great  splashes  of  maroon,  surging  back- 
wards and  forwards  and  impotently  bellowing 
their  joy.  Then  just  before  the  whistle  blew 
a  brave  young  maniac  broke  from  a  struggling 
group  and  sped  tortuously  across  the  field. 
He  slipped,^  we  groaned,  he  recovered,  we 
shrieked,  he  dodged  and  then,  even  as  we  im- 
plored him  to  go  on,  a  diving  enemy  gripped 
him  around  his  struggling  knees  and  he  went 
down  under  a  heap  of  plunging  men !  The  pile 
was  slowly  disentangled,  a  few  arms  waved 
vaguely  above  it,  the  crowd  cheered  feebly  in 
its  uncertainty.  Then  a  frenzied  player  flung 
himself  out  of  the  ruck,  tossing  his  arms  above 
him ;  a  great  cry  arose,  swept  on  into  a  mighty 
volume  of  glad  noise.  The  ball  was  over  the 
line!  The  referee  was  blowing  his  whistle! 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  me  that  Gwenn  and 
I  were  dancing  up  and  down  shouting  at  each 
other  in  a  most  absurd  way.  The  same 
thought  was  occurring  to  others  near  us  about 
their  own  actions.  The  stand  hushed  quickly. 

119 


IN  THE  DABK 

People  moved  slowly  toward  the  exits.  It  was 
all  over.  It  was  only  a  game  after  all.  We 
had  forgotten  proportions.  We  had  been  ex- 
citably silly  people.  We  promptly  became 
sedately  silly  people  pretending  that  nothing 
important  had  happened.  Yet  down  in  our 
hearts  we  knew  that  something  very  important 
had  happened. 

Ten  thousand  people  had  been  swept  to- 
gether in  a  big,  pure,  uplifting  emotion — joy 
over  all  that  makes  for  hope  and  progress, 
joy  over  youth  with  its  fine,  reckless  courage, 
its  quick  wit  and  nimble  heels,  its  willingness 
to  do  to  the  utmost  what  is  to  be  done  without 
counting  the  cost  or  asking  the  reason !  Some- 
thing had  happened  to  ten  thousand  people  of 
much  greater  importance  than  the  election  of 
another  fat,  stupid,  honest  man  to  public  office 
or  defeating  him  in  favor  of  a  thin,  clever, 
crooked  one.  Why  should  I  be  ashamed  of  the 
deep  pleasure  that  I  felt? 

"It  was  a  great  game,  wasn't  it?"  I  said  de- 
fiantly. 

120 


A  FOOTBALL  GAME 

"A  splendid  game."  She  smiled  content- 
edly. 

She  would  not  let  me  accompany  her  home, 
insisting  pleasantly  but  firmly  that  she  pre- 
ferred not.  So  I  put  her  on  the  street-car  and 
strolled  slowly  homeward  along  the  crowded 
sidewalks.  She  seemed  much  nearer  to  me 
after  the  intimate  excitements  of  the  after- 
noon, not  at  all  like  a  recent  acquaintance  or 
an  unknown.  Where  she  had  come  from  I  still 
did  not  know,  but  she  was  here,  in  my  town,  in 
my  life,  and  I  was  glad  of  it.  Let  sisters  worry 
if  they  would !  The  thought  slapped  me  in  the 
face  with  the  sting  of  a  wet  cloth.  My  two 
sweet  sisters  were  probably  discussing  me  at 
home  and  preparing  cold,  damp  blankets  for 
their  fevered  brother.  In  their  eyes  I  was  a 
sick  man  needing  kind  but  heroic  treatment 
and  careful  dosing.  It  was  useless  to  put  off 
the  hour  of  diagnosis  and  prescription.  I 
marched  into  the  house  resolved  to  endure  pa- 
tiently the  consultation,  but  to  refuse  firmly  to 
swallow  the  conventional  nostrums. 

121 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SISTER  EDITH'S  AFFAIR 

WITH  a  feeling  of  shamefaced  relief,  I 
found  the  apartment  empty.  Yet  hav- 
ing determined  upon  combat  I  walked  around 
aimlessly  for  a  few  minutes  discontented  with 
the  idea  of  quietly  amusing  myself.  Then  I 
recollected  a  rather  disagreeable  letter  which 
I  had  been  putting  off  writing  to  a  friend  with 
whose  moral  conduct  I  had  officiously  con- 
cerned myself.  This  would  provide  an  outlet 
for  my  militant  emotions.  Leaving  the  door 
ajar  to  give  me  a  glimpse  of  the  open  fire  I  sat 
down  at  my  desk  in  the  miniature  "  library, " 
which  opened  out  from  the  living  room,  and 
was  soon  deep  in  the  pleasure  of  pointing  out 
to  a  misguided  fellow  the  folly  of  his  course. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  my  sisters  entered 
the  apartment  acrimoniously  indulging  in  that 

122 


SISTER  EDITH'S  AFFAIR 

tiresome  form  of  talk  known  as  "having  it 
out."  In  other  words  they  had  reached  that 
stage  of  intimate  dispute  where  polite  formali- 
ties and  sensible  restraint  had  been  discarded 
as  handicaps  upon  the  hammer  and  chisel 
method  of  convincement. 

"To  get  down  to  brass  tacks,"  announced 
Dora  in  a  battering  tone,  "you  are  simply  mak- 
ing a  silly  fool  of  yourself." 

"That  is  a  matter  which  concerns  only  three 
persons,"  replied  Edith,  interposing  chilled 
steel  between  herself  and  the  imminent  tacks, 
"George  and  me  and  R.  H." 

"It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  say  it  only 
concerns  you  three,"  struck  back  Dora,  "but 
I  say  that  the  family  has  also  some  interest, 
when  you  insist  on  stirring  up  scandal." 

I  grinned  comfortably.  Another  of  the 
family  was  in  disrepute.  It  appeared  that 
Dora's  virtuous  isolation  was  lonelier  than  I 
had  supposed.  But  Edith's  response  put  a  sud- 
den stop  to  my  rising  amusement. 

"I'm  not  stirring  up  scandal,"  she  said. 
123 


IN  THE  DAEK 

"  Everything  has  been  done  most  quietly.  B. 
H.  and  I  have  done  nothing  indiscreet.  We 
have  simply  learned  that  each  of  us  made  a 
mistake  when  he  married.  George  and  I  have 
never  had  any  hard  words,  no  nasty  rows,  but 
we  have  drifted  apart  and  now  that  E.  H.  and 
I  have  met  I  realize  why  it  was  to  be.  George 
understands  how  I  feel.  He  says  that  if  I  am 
sure  that  E.  H.  is  the  man  he  will  never  stand 
in  the  way  of  my  happiness.  It  is  all  open  and 
above  board. " 

"How  about  Mrs.  E.  H.?"  This  time  Dora 
hit  a  tack  squarely  on  the  head.  "Has  she 
also  an  affinity?" 

"Oh,  she's  a  silly  thing, "  said  Edith  loftily. 
"I  don't  suppose  she  is  really  capable  of  hav- 
ing a  big  feeling  for  anybody.  She  may  think 
she  is  fond  of  E.  H.  in  a  weak  way  but  she  would 
feel  the  same  way  toward  any  man  who  was 
kind  and  took  care  of  her." 

I  had  a  coarse  brotherly  impulse  to  step  out 
suddenly  and  slap  her,  but  happily  remained 
quiet. 

124 


SISTER  EDITH'S  AFFAIR 

"The  description  of  his  wife  by  the  noble  R. 
HJ"  queried  Dora. 

"Of  course  not,  he  never  speaks  of  her  ex- 
cept most  generously  and  affectionately.  But 
I've  seen  her  once  or  twice.  She's  not  big 
enough  for  him!" 

"And  you  are?" 

"I  don't  say  that,"  a  voice  of  saccharine 
humility,  "but  I  appreciate  him.  I  see  how 
large  he  is  and  it  would  be  a  wonderful  thing 
for  me  to  make  myself  a  fitting  companion. 
He's  working  on  these  efficiency  problems  now, 
he  showed  me  how  to  increase  fifty  per  cent, 
the  amount  of  work  each  employe  could  do  in 
a  day.  In  a  big  factory  this  makes  a  difference 
of  hundreds  of  thousands  a  year.  It's  very  in- 
teresting. I'm  reading  up  on  it.  You  see,  it 
benefits  the  workman.  They  have  a  prize  sys- 
tem and  each  man  gets  ten  per  cent,  more  in 
wages  for  every  fifty  per  cent,  increase  in 
efficiency." 

"Bother!"  snapped  Dora,  striking  out 
blindly.  "You  talked  the  same  way  about 

125 


IN  THE  DAEK 

George's  wonderful  ideas  in  the  practice  of 
law,  when  you  were  engaged.  You  were  read- 
ing up  on  that,  too ! ' ' 

" That's  very  different,"  said  Edith  indig- 
nantly. "Law  is  a  very  tiresome,  dry  study 
and  it  gets  duller  the  more  you  read.  But 
E.  H.'s  business  grows  more  exciting  the  more 
I  learn  about  it.  He  took  me  over  their  plant 
one  day.  It  was  most  amusing  and  entertain- 
ing, everybody  rushing  around,  ordering  other 
people  here  and  there  and  everyone  so  atten- 
tive to  E.  H.  He's  a  big  man  in  his  business, 
you  know." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Dora  wearily,  "he  seems  to 
be  very  big,  everything  about  him  is  big  except 
it  never  appeals  to  me  as  very  big  to  be  pay- 
ing attentions  to  another  man's  wife  and  par- 
ticularly when  you  have  a  wife  of  your  own, 
who  trusts  you." 

"That's  human  nature,"  affirmed  Edith  com- 
placently. Again  I  restrained  the  eager  palm 
that  itched  to  administer  fitting  rebuke.  "We 
don't  know  why  things  are,  we  just  find  them  as 

126 


SISTER  EDITH'S  AFFAIK 

they  are  and  must  take  them  that  way.  I  can 't 
help  liking  him.  Being  married  doesn't 
change  men  or  women.  We  want  to  be  happy 
just  the  same.  We  want  to  be  with  someone 
who  makes  us  happy." 

"Quit  snivelling,"  commanded  Dora.  "I 
never  supposed  when  I  ventured  to  suggest  that 
you  were  overdoing  this  business  of  visiting 
dear  schoolmate  Clara,  that  there  was  anything 
serious  in  the  affair.  I  knew  your  Detroit 
excursions  weren't  the  results  of  yearning  to 
see  Clara  but  I  didn't  believe  all  the  silly  gos- 
sip I  heard  about  this  married  man,  whom  you 
were  seen  with  so  much,  until  you  became 
maudlin  over  E.  H." 

"Who  gossiped?"  asked  Edith.  "I'd  like 
to  know  whose  business  it  was,  anyway.  I 
haven't  done  anything  I'm  ashamed  of.  If  a 
woman  can't  be  seen  twice  with  a  man  without 
being  gossiped  about — " 

"You  are  too  funny  for  anything,"  broke  in 
Dora  with  a  derisive  cackle.  "You  admit  to 
me  a  far  more  serious  situation  than  anyone 

127 


IN  THE  DAKK 

has  suggested  and  then  demand  to  know  why 
gossip  should  attack  your  sacred  person." 

"But  I  haven't  done  anything  that  should 
be  gossiped  about,"  insisted  Edith.  "What's 
the  use  talking?  You  are  so  unreasonable, 
Dora." 

"Yes,  I'm  unreasonable,"  assented  Dora,  re- 
turning vigorously  to  the  "brass  tacks."  "I 
have  a  silly  sister  married  to  a  man  far  too 
good  for  her,  running  after  a  disloyal  husband 
of  a  woman  probably  far  too  good  for  him. 
If  Mrs.  E.  H.  and  George  could  only  get  crazy 
about  each  other  I  believe  I'd  help  a  double 
divorce  and  double  marriage.  That  would 
make  one  decent  couple  at  least.  But  that's 
absurd. 

"The  fact  is  I  think  George  ought  to  put 
his  house  in  order.  You  talk  as  if  he  knew 
everything.  I  doubt  it.  If  he  doesn't  I'm  go- 
ing to  tell  him.  And  if  he  does  I'm  going  to 
give  him  a  piece  of  my  mind. ' ' 

"You  needn't  do  that,"  I  said,  pushing  open 
the  door  of  my  room  and  getting  considerable 

128 


SISTER  EDITH'S  AFFAIE 

amusement  out  of  the  surprise  at  my  appear- 
ance. "I'll  speak  to  George  myself.  I'm 
ashamed  of  you,  Edie;  there's  little  excuse 
for  a  woman  with  a  husband  like  George  Car- 
fax." 

"You  stupid  men,"  said  Edith.  "The  kind 
of  a  husband  hasn't  anything  to  do  with  it. 
It  makes  it  harder.  It  makes  one  slower  to 
act.  If  I'd  been  married  to  a  brute  I'd  have 
left  long  ago.  Some  of  the  nicest  men  IVe 
known  have  had  no  characters;  I  couldn't  re- 
spect them,  but  I  liked  them.  Some  of  the  big- 
gest bores  I've  known  have  been  models  of 
virtue  and  I  hated  them." 

"I  suppose  ability  and  value  make  no  appeal 
to  a  woman, ' '  I  began  bitterly. 

"To  a  woman!"  she  interrupted,  scornfully. 
"How  about  a  man?  Do  you  waste  a  thought 
on  a  girl  like  Lottie  Dinsley  who  works  her- 
self to  death  morning,  noon  and  night  to  take 
care  of  her  mother  and  to  pay  her  father's 
debts  I  But  you  make  yourself  ridiculous  chas- 
ing that  painted  Miss  Popham  all  over  the 

129 


IN  THE  DAEK 

ballroom  to  get  the  seventh  extra  waltz  on  her 
program. ' ' 

''Well,  really,  that  isn't  logic,"  I  started 
again,  bravely. 

"No,  it  isn't  logic,"  she  assented.  "It's 
just  fact.  We  like.  We  don't  like.  We  fall 
in  love  and  get  over  it.  Some  people  think  that 
after  we  get  over  it  we  must  keep  on  pretend- 
ing. I  don't.  I  live  and  let  live  until  a  man 
comes  along  who  seems  like  the  real  thing. 
Then  I  say :  Now  what  am  I  to  do  ?  My  hus- 
band doesn't  need  me.  He  doesn't  even  want 
me.  All  he  wants  is  his  dusty  old  books  and 
his  tiresome  cases.  We've  no  children — it's 
just  a  question  between  him  and  me.  I'm 
thinking  it  over,  trying  to  think  it  out  decently, 
to  act  in  a  careful,  respectable  manner.  Then 
the  family  arrives  on  the  scene — Dora  with  her 
icy  intellect,  you  with  your  fixed  formulas — 
oh,  I  hear  you've  had  a  shake-up  recently!" 

"Don't  discuss  me,"  I  said  shortly. 

1 '  No,  don 't  discuss  me, ' '  she  mocked.  ' '  Let  's 
talk  about  wicked  sister!  Sister  is  still  per- 

130 


SISTER  EDITH'S  AFFAIR 

fectly  respectable,  able  to  take  care  of  herself! 
But  I  understand  that  a  mysterious  adventuress 
has  you  in  her  toils.  A  married  lady,  too! 
And  you  so  harsh  about  my  interest  in  a  mar- 
ried man !  It  would  be  funny  if  it  didn  't  make 
me  so  mad." 

She  picked  up  the  coat  and  long  marabou 
stole  which  she  had  cast  off  on  coming  into 
the  room.  I  held  the  smart,  expensive  gar- 
ment while  she  slipped  into  it  with  that  uncon- 
scious shrug  of  pride  with  which  the  well- 
dressed  woman  assumes  her  clothing,  even  in 
turbulent  moments.  I  had  a  momentary  vi- 
sion of  an  angry  man  jerking  on  his  overcoat 
and  smiled  at  the  contrast. 

"Shall  I?" — I  glanced  out  of  the  windows. 
It  was  already  quite  dark. 

"No,  I  came  up  in  the  machine,"  she  replied 
stiffly.  "Don't  bother  to  come  downstairs. 
Good-bye." 

In  the  hall  she  turned  to  speed  a  last  ar- 
row into  my  lacerated  hide. 

"I  leave  you  to  each  other.  Give  Dora  a 
131 


IN  THE  DARK 

book  of  poems,  Gilbert,  sweet,  passionate 
poems;  if  she  has  any  red  blood  it  needs  to 
be  stirred  up  regularly.  It's  getting  clotted. 
For  yourself  I  suggest  a  few  dime  novels  to 
familiarize  you  with  the  ways  of  adventur- 
esses, to  be  followed  by  an  essay — or  perhaps 
a  curtain  lecture  by  Dora — on  Discretion  I" 
Then  she  slammed  the  door. 


132 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   FAMILY   BESCUE   LEAGUE 

T~"\ORA  and  I,  a  bit  abashed  by  Edith's  at- 
-*— '  tack  on  our  common  interpretation  of  the 
rules  of  the  game,  tacitly  declared  a  truce  in 
our  quarrel.  We  passed  a  very  satisfactory 
evening  in  alternately  scoring  easy  victories 
over  straw  defenses  set  up  by  each  in  turn 
representing  the  absent  culprit. 

''She  doesn't  consider  for  a  moment  her 
obligations  to  George,"  Dora  would  say. 

"Of  course,  she  takes  the  position  that 
George  does  not  wish  to  hold  her  to  those  obli- 
gations." 

"The  highest  obligations  we  owe  are  to  those 
who  would  not  hold  us  to  them,"  Dora  would 
reply. 

"Still,  to  hold  us  silently  against  our  desires 
is  as  much  a  restraint  as  an  audible  demand." 

133 


IN  THE  DAEK 

"That  isn't  his  restraint.  That's  her  own 
sense  of  decency  fighting  against  willful  ap- 
petite." 

"It  all  depends  on  what  you  call  appetite  and 
what  is  a  divine  instinct  to  live  fully,"  would 
be  my  weak  return. 

"Instinct!"  Dora  would  echo.  "An  appe- 
tite for  self-gratification  need  never  be  con- 
fused with  a  divine  instinct." 

"Of  course,  you  are  right,"  I  would  remark, 
gleefully  surrendering  my  betrayed  forces. 
Some  people  call  this  sort  of  thing  "a  real 
good  talk."  It  is  probably  the  most  effective 
way  ever  discovered  for  giving  strength  to 
ignorance  and  prejudice.  People  pass  even- 
ings around  the  banquet  table  "hearing  both 
sides"  in  this  manner  and  go  away  convinced 
that  the  tissue-paper  thoughts  with  which  they 
arrived  have  survived  the  ordeal  of  fire  and  are 
pure  asbestos. 

About  half  past  ten  Dora  and  I  organized 
the  Family  Rescue  League  and  appointed  me 
its  delegate  to  carry  our  resolutions  to  the 

134 


THE  FAMILY  EESCUE  LEAGUE 

wronged  husband.  After  which  we  retired  to 
our  respective  rooms  for  the  sleep  which  is  sup- 
posed ever  to  be  the  reward  of  virtue. 

As  a  result  of  this  action,  at  eleven-thirty 
Monday  morning,  I  entered  George's  office,  on 
the  sixteenth  floor  of  the  National  Bank  Build- 
ing, in  a  very  uncomfortable  mental  condition. 
The  glow  of  the  former  evening's  virtue  had 
quite  departed.  I  realized  that  Edith  had  prob- 
ably enlarged  imaginatively  upon  my  interest 
in  Gwenn  Fenton  and  I  was  hardly  the  ideal 
representative  of  the  Family  Eescue  League. 
I  wished  that  the  impeccable  Dora  had  been  ap- 
pointed. Also  George  Carfax  was  not  an  easy 
person  to  approach  on  such  a  mission  as  mine. 

He  was  a  genial,  resolute  man  with  a  soul 
big  enough  to  fill  more  than  the  massive  body 
which  was  the  traditional  Carfax  physique. 
He  had  a  panoramic  vision  which  took  in  many 
things  around  any  point  presented  and  made 
it  very  difficult  to  focus  his  entire  thought  on 
one  small  idea.  I  had  found,  for  example,  on 
a  previous  occasion  that  it  was  hard  to  get 

135 


IN  THE  DARK 

him  to  appreciate  properly  the  value  of  a  cer- 
tain achievement  of  a  local  politician.  He  had 
insisted  on  referring  to  what  he  called  "twenty 
years  of  scoundrelism"  and  refused  to  be  im- 
pressed by  the  lonesome  virtuous  act.  I  had 
retired  from  that  interview  without  George's 
endorsement  for  my  candidate,  but  with  a  sense 
of  something  cheap  and  silly  in  my  effort  to 
obtain  it.  I  did  not  relish  repeating  the  ex- 
perience in  this  more  delicate  matter. 

"Sorry  I  couldn't  make  it  lunch  to-day, 
Gilbert,"  Carfax  said,  as  we  shook  hands. 
"I've  a  fool  committee  meeting  on  hand,  a 
gathering  of  public-spirited  business  men  to 
urge  the  city  council  to  improve  conditions 
back  of  the  Yards.  I  shall  probably  advise 
them  to  quit  contributing  to  the  campaign  funds 
that  elect  crooks  to  represent  that  district,  as 
first  aid  to  the  injured.  That  will  prevent 
them  from  appointing  me  on  any  subcommittee 
to  waste  more  of  my  time ! ' ' 

He  chuckled  joyously  and  rumpled  his  hair  in 
his  customary  manner.  Despite  constant  bar- 

136 


THE  FAMILY  EESCUE  LEAGUE 

bering  his  light  brown  thatch  grew  thickly  and 
was  always  in  confusion. 

11  Still  working  with  the  uplift  and  laughing 
at  it,"  I  observed.  "Well,  George,  I  came  here 
to  talk  to  you  about  social  conditions  nearer 
home.*' 

"You  think  I've  been  listening  to  Edith's  wild 
tales  of  your  recent  romance  and  you  want  to 
explain  that  there's  nothing  in  it!"  he  an- 
nounced to  my  great  confusion.  He  was  much 
amused. 

"You're  quite  mistaken,"  I  stammered. 

1 '  Then  there  is  something  in  it ! "  His  amuse- 
ment increased. 

"I  didn't  come  to  talk  about  myself,"  I  said, 
irritably.  "It's  hard  for  me  to  say  just  what 
I  wish  to  say,  especially  in  these  businesslike 
surroundings.  It  isn't  business,  but  I  couldn't 
see  you  at  home  very  well."  I  paused  uncer- 
tainly and  then  plunged.  "Fact  is,  Dora  and 
I  have  been  worried  about  Edith." 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"Oh,  I  suppose  it  isn't  really  serious  but  we 
137 


IN  THE  DAKK 

think  she  is  a  little  too  much  interested  in  a 
certain  man,  who  isn't  her  husband.  We  don't 
believe  the  affair  is  exactly  important  but  per- 
haps it  needs  just  a  little  firmness  on  your  part 
to— to— " 

"To  give  it  a  real  importance?"  he  sug- 
gested. 

"No,"  I  answered,  absurdly,  "but  I  don't 
believe  you  understand  Edith.  You  see  her 
too  much  through — " 

"Through  fond  eyes?"  he  asked  gently. 
"That's  the  best  way  to  see  most  people,  I 
believe,  the  fairest,  most  helpful  way." 

"There  may  be  two  opinions  about  that,"  I 
retorted. 

"Yes,  there  may  be,"  he  said.  "It  happens 
that  I  hold  only  one." 

"Very  well.  Even  through  those  eyes  do 
you  care  to  see  her  entangling  herself  with  an- 
other? Do  you  think  a  mistake  of  that  kind 
will  bring  her  anything  but  misery?" 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said,  simply.  "I  don't 
138 


THE  FAMILY  EESCUE  LEAGUE 

know  that  she  is  entangling  herself.  I  think 
the  gentleman  in  question  is  a  pretty  decent 
kind  of  a  man,  as  men  go.  Of  course,  he  hasn't 
the  clean,  fine  grain,  with  which  every  man 
better  than  a  criminal  credits  himself,  but  he's 
sound  wood,  an  average  blockhead,  not  all  rot- 
ten under  the  bark  as  you  seem  to  think. ' ' 

"You  know  him?" 

"Slightly.  I  know  more  about  him.  I  al- 
ways inform  myself  about  Edith's  best  friends, 
as  they  come  and  go.  I've  watched  a  lot  of 
weedy  friendships  grow  and  wither.  I  could 
have  nourished  many  a  feeble  curiosity  into 
strong  interest  with  opposition.  But  I  didn  't. ' ' 

"So  your  detachment  isn't  carelessness,  it's 
policy. ' ' 

"Partly.  You  see,  Gilbert,  I'm  an  unexcit- 
ing, rather  steady-going  person,  not  much  of 
a  play-fellow.  So  I  realize  that  Edith  with  her 
gay  spirits  and  love  of  a  lot  of  things  that, 
candidly,  bore  me  to  death,  must  have  playmates 
besides  me,  people  who  enjoy  the  little  games." 

139 


IN  THE  DARK 

"Don't  you  enjoy  any  of  the  little  games? 
I  don't  think  everything  that  isn't  serious  is 
useless." 

"Neither  do  I.  But,  take  dancing;  I'm  not 
such  a  poor  dancer.  But  I  can't  enthuse  over 
a  cotillion,  discuss  it  for  days  before  and  after 
— and  pine  for  what  was  not." 

"That  happens  to  be  my  attitude,  too,  so  I 
can't  argue  with  you." 

"Then  I'll  try  to  find  your  tender  spot,"  he 
grinned  pleasantly.  "You're  a  bit  fond  of  the 
table.  So  am  I.  Yet  I  can't  drown  the  sor- 
rows that  follow  a  long  evening  of  overfeeding 
and  overdrinking  with  memories  of  the  joy- 
ous antics  of  a  lot  of  people  who  call  themselves 
'good  sports,'  in  unconscious  irony  apparently, 
because  they  are  neither  sports  nor  sportsmen 
and  their  great  aim  is  to  appear  wicked.  I'm 
not  spontaneously  joyful  over  such  ideals  of 
'real  living';  so  naturally  I  expect  Edith  to  en- 
joy the  companionship  of  the  'gay  dogs,'  who 
help  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door." 

"Keep  the  wolf  from  the  door!"  I  objected, 
140 


THE  FAMILY  EESCUE  LEAGUE 

remembering  my  many  arguments  with  Edith 
over  her  lavish  entertainments.  "You  mean, 
who  bring  the  wolf  to  the  door." 

"Well,  now  you  mention  it,"  he  laughed. 
"I  have  noted  that  the  wolf  is  usually  follow- 
ing close  on  the  trail  of  the  gay  dog.  To  com- 
plete the  metaphor,  however,  let  me  observe 
that  gay  dogs  come  and  go  but  Edith  still  seems 
to  give  a  mild  affection  and  trust  to  old  dog 
Tray." 

"I  suppose  the  fact  that  the  gay  dog  is  mar- 
ried makes  no  difference  in  your  attitude!"  I 
felt  rather  indignant. 

"Not  the  slightest!  Sometimes  it  gives  me 
the  pleasure  of  flirting  mildly  with  his  wife 
which  may  prevent  her  from  feeling  neglected 
and  usually  arouses  a  most  amusing  opposition 
from  both  the  gay  dog  and  Edith." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  can  discuss  this  matter 
to  any  purpose  with  you,"  I  proclaimed,  all 
the  set  prejudices  of  the  bachelor  against  mar- 
ried freedom  clamoring  for  utterance,  "if  your 
view  of  the  obligations  of  husband  and  wife  to 

141 


IN  THE  DARK 

each  other  is  so  loose.  I  suppose  you  call  it, 
broad." 

"Obligations!"  he  considered  them  slowly. 
"Restrictions  of  the  will  accepted  for  the  sake 
of  peace?  I  recognize  no  such  obligations." 

"Call  them  loyalties,"  I  was  much  nettled. 
"They  can't  be  broken  or  the  comfort  of  the 
family  and  of  society  is  destroyed." 

' '  Surely, ' '  he  assented.  * '  But  when  they  are 
broken  the  relationship  is  broken.  You  can't 
cement  a  broken  loyalty  together.  All  that 
remains  to  be  done  is  to  brush  the  fragments 
into  a  judicial  dustpan  and  obtain  a  legal  an- 
nouncement of  the  smash." 

"Is  there  any  harm  in  trying  to  prevent  the 
smash?"  I  inquired  with  sledge-hammer  sar- 
casm. 

"Yes,"  he  retorted,  "there  is.  The  sure 
way  to  have  a  smash  is  to  try  to  prevent  one. 
Wait  a  minute !  You're  full  of  fight  but  I  want 
the  floor.  This  is  my  pet  hobby." 

"Go  on." 

"The  strongest  influence  in  the  world  to  re- 
142 


THE  FAMILY  EESCUE  LEAGUE 

tain  loyalty  is  to  be  worthy  of  it;  if  possible 
to  be  so  worthy  of  it  that  a  yellow  dog  would 
be  ashamed  to  snap  at  you.  I  believe  that  if 
a  man  is  straight  and  square  according  to  his 
lights,  fulfilling  his  obligations,  according  to 
his  honest  estimate  of  his  capacity,  that's  all 
he  can  do  to  attract  loyalty.  Everything  else 
is  going  to  drive  it  away." 

"It  sounds  mighty  well,  George,"  I  said 
truculently;  "but  I  think  a  little  courage  and 
masterfulness  are  not  to  be  despised." 

"Courage!"  roared  George  mirthfully. 
"You're  a  bachelor,  a  man  who  doesn't  dare 
to  get  married.  You  talk  of  courage  to  a  mar- 
ried man!  For  a  sensitive,  affectionate  man 
deliberately  to  oppose  his  wife  day  after  day, 
insisting  upon  his  right  to  rule  himself,  not 
her  but  himself,  is  a  continuous  exhibition  of 
courage  that  makes  every  military  hero  of  his- 
tory a  second-rater.  Kipling  explains  the  mar- 
ried soldier's  courage  by  saying:  '  'e  fights 
for  two.'  Rubbish!  He's  been  fighting  a 
fight  that  makes  mere  war  a  pastime.  He's 

143 


IN  THE  DARK 

been  risking  not  broken  bones,  but  a  broken 
spirit. ' ' 

"You  seem  to  feel  very  harshly  all  of  a  sud- 
den about  women,"  I  commented. 

"Not  a  bit,"  he  asserted.  "The  wife  must 
fight  just  as  hard  for  her  soul.  Only  she  has 
one  divine  aid.  When  she  holds  a  little  kid  in 
her  arms  she  realizes  that  she  can  do  things 
so  much  more  important  than  anything  a  mere 
man  can  do  that  she  becomes  invincible.  She 
wins  right  there  for  herself;  and  she's  likely 
to  get  so  absorbed  in  herself  that  she'll  let 
the  man  alone.  It's  those  like  Edith  and  I 
who  have  no  children  who  keep  on  fighting  each 
other." 

"Haven't  we  drifted  away  from  our  topic?" 
I  suggested. 

"No,"  he  said,  "here's  the  point.  She's 
fighting  for  herself.  I'm  fighting  for  myself. 
As  long  as  I  respect  her  right  to  her  own  soul 
we  can  fight  the  rest  of  the  world  together. 
But  suppose  I  begin  to  oppose  her  self-mastery. 
I'd  be  attacking  the  very  foundation  of  her 

144 


THE  FAMILY  RESCUE  LEAGUE 

loyalty  to  me,  the  confidence  that  one  person 
at  least  in  all  the  world  is  fond  enough  of  her, 
believes  enough  in  her,  to  wish  her  to  be  her- 
self." 

"You  seem  to  think  people  marry  to  be  let 
alone. ' ' 

"If  they  do  they're  grievously  disappointed. 
Excuse  me  a  minute.  That  reminds  me  of 
something." 

He  picked  up  the  telephone  and  said  to  the 
switchboard  operator:  "Call  Mrs.  Carfax. 
If  you  don't  find  her  at  home  try  Madame 
Cutine — yes,  the  hairdresser." 

"No,"  he  resumed,  "my  idea  is  that  when 
two  people  fall  in  love  they  feel  that  means 
desire  for  the  loved  one  to  hold  and  grow  in 
the  personality  that  charms  the  lover.  I  may 
criticise  Edith  about  little  things  but  funda- 
mentally I  want  her  just  as  she  is.  In  other 
words  she  is  very  dear  to  me.  She  feels  that 
and  knows  that  she  is  safe  with  me.  I  don't 
want  to  change  her  to  something  she  doesn't 
wish  to  be.  She  is  under  obligation  to  herself 

145 


IN  THE  DAEK 

to  prove  that  that  which  she  is,  and  which  I 
love,  is  an  admirable  soul.  If  I  tried  to  bully 
her  into  believing  that  her  soul  was  a  weak 
thing  that  needed  guidance,  what  would  be  the 
use  of  loyalty?  Her  conclusion  would  be  that 
the  more  loyal  she  was  to  me  the  less  I  would 
think  of  her." 

The  telephone  rang. 

"Not  at  either  place?"  he  inquired.  "Then 
try  Mme.  Blanchette,  the  milliner  and  Smith- 
Stevens — no,  no — Smith-Stevens,  ladies'  tail- 
ors. You'll  find  the  phone  numbers  in  my  bill 
box,  one  has  been  recently  changed  .  .  .  yes, 
thank  you." 

"Sorry  to  interrupt,"  he  explained,  "but  I 
promised  to  phone  Edith  this  morning  if  a 
man  was  coming  up  to  dinner.  I  forgot  it  un- 
til too  late  for  the  manicure  engagement.  Now 
I'm  guessing." 

"Why  doesn't  she  call  you  up?"  I  asked. 

"Because  I  promised  to  phone  her.  She  was 
going  to  be  very  busy  this  morning. ' '  He  said 
it  without  a  smile. 

146 


THE  FAMILY  EESCUE  LEAGUE 

Again  the  bell  rang. 

"Well,  well,  I'm  glad  to  have  located  you," 
said  Carfax.  "Yes,  he's  coming —  In  a 
great  hurry? —  Friend  of  yours  is  here — 
Well,  not  as  much  of  a  friend  as  that —  No, 
just  a  relative —  Eight  the  first  time!  'Tis 
Gilbert  himself  looking  just  as  safe  and  wealthy 
as  one  of  his  own  bonds —  You  think  I  ought 
to  warn  him  about  whom? —  Don't  know  the 
lady's  name!  Really  I  can't  warn  him  against 
the  whole  world  of  women.  There  are  a  few 
decent  ones,  you  know —  Yes,  he's  listening 
closely  to  every  word." 

"I'm  not,"  I  snapped  resentfully. 

"Guess  I  was  wrong,  Edith,"  he  continued 
sweetly.  "He  says  he's  not  listening,  but  he 
can't  help  hearing —  No,  he  can't  hear  you. 
Would  you  like  him  to  I —  No,  I  thought  not — 
Certainly  not! —  I'd  hate  to  have  him  hear 
that! —  You  do  feel  genuinely  concerned 
though? —  The  lady  has  no  past  to  speak  of? 
How  did  you  mean  that? —  Beg  pardon.  I 
didn't  realize  how  serious  I  should  be.  I 

147 


IN  THE  DARK 

thought  I  was  quite  funny —  Oh,  yes,  I  see. 
Just  a  minute — 

"She  says  it's  too  serious  a  matter  to  joke 
about,  Gilbert.  Have  you  any  little  retort  you 
would  like  me  to  convey?"  George  was  hav- 
ing a  great  deal  of  fun  apparently. 

"Tell  her  that  everything  I'm  doing  is  open 
and  above  board;  that  she  would  do  well  to 
act  like  wise. " 

"Here's  a  terrible  message,"  said  Carfax. 
"Hate  to  give  it  to  a  lady.  Gilbert  says  he  is 
setting  an  example  of  acting  open  and  above 
board  that  you  would  do  well  to  follow ! —  Of 
course,  quite  right.  I'll  tell  him! 

"She  says  that  she  does  not  care  to  discuss 
her  private  affairs  over  the  telephone!" 

I  lost  my  temper. 

"Then  tell  her  to  quit  discussing  mine!" 

Carfax  chuckled  and  repeated  the  message. 

"Yes,  that's  what  he  said —  I  thought  of 
that,  too —  If  his  affairs  are  open  and  above 
board  why  not  over  the  phone? —  Perfect  re- 
ply—  Naturally  you  don 't  care  to  discuss  your 

148 


THE  FAMILY  EESCUE  LEAGUE 

affairs —  No,  I'm  not  trying  to  be  nasty!— 
Yes,  dear —  Yes,  I'll  use  my  influence  with 
brother !—  Yes,  yes —  I  '11  try  to  show  him — 
He  '11  appreciate  your  interest,  I  know ! ' ' 

He  turned  away  from  the  telephone  and  con- 
fronted me  solemnly. 

"I've  just  promised  my  wife  to  urge  you  to 
abandon  the  pursuit  of  this  mysterious  woman. 
I  don't  know  her  name.  Neither  does  Edith; 
but  we  know  it  must  be  a  mistake  because,  of 
course,  we  would  know  the  name  of  any  lady 
whom  you  ought  to  pursue.  Shall  I  give  you  a 
list  of  eligibles?" 

"Confound  you!  I  didn't  come  here  for  ad- 
vice. I  came  to  give  some  advice.  It  isn't 
wanted.  I'll  go." 

"That's  hardly  fair,"  he  said,  the  corners  of 
his  eyes  twitching  with  amusement.  "I  listen 
patiently  to  you  and  then  you  refuse  to  hear 
me." 

"You  old  fraud!"  I  snorted  affectionately. 
"I  haven't  talked  five  minutes.  I've  listened 
patiently  to  you  concerning  my  advice  to  you 

149 


IN  THE  DARK 

but  I'll  be  hanged  if  I'll  listen  to  you  concern- 
ing your  advice  to  me.  You  don't  know  what 
you  are  talking  about." 

'  *  Nor  did  you  when  you  came  in  here.  That's 
the  reason  I  did  the  talking  for  you.  Now  you 
want  to  talk  for  yourself." 

"No,  I'm  not  going  to  talk.  I'm  going  to 
lunch.  Are  you  ready  to  go?" 

"Just  a  minute,"  he  said,  fumbling  over  a 
few  papers.  "I'll  sign  these  letters." 

As  we  stepped  into  the  outer  hall  the  elevator 
stopped  on  our  floor  and  Curlew  literally 
bounded  out  of  it  (for  all  the  world  like  a  dis- 
carded memory  leaping  from  the  pit  of  for- 
gotten trouble).  He  rushed  up  to  me  and 
seized  me  by  the  arm. 

"I'm  catching  a  train,"  he  panted.  "Just 
came  from  your  office.  They  said  you  were 
here.  Thought  of  something  at  the  last  mo- 
ment. Maybe  you're  deceiving  me.  I  don't 
know.  I've  taken  your  word.  But  I  shall  find 
out  even  if  I'm  not  here.  If  you're  square 

150 


THE  FAMILY  KESCUE  LEAGUE 

with  me  you'll  keep  away  from  her.    You  owe 
that  to  me,  anyhow.    You  keep  away!" 

I  edged  off  from  brother  in-law,  who  was 
carefully  observing  a  blank  wall. 

''Mr.  Curlew,"  I  said  quietly,  "if  I  owe  any- 
thing to  you — " 

"I  mean  this,  I  believed  you  were  disinter- 
ested, that  you  meant  what  you  said  honestly. 
But  you  might  be  deceived.  So  I've  arranged 
to  find  out  about  her.  Then  I  thought,  sup- 
pose I  find  you  are  still  mixed  up  on  the  affair. 
What  shall  I  think  of  you?  I  shall  distrust 
you.  I  shall  look  further.  I  speak  plainly. ' ' 

"You  always  do,"  I  said,  assuming  jaunti- 
ness. 

"I'll  speak  more  plainly,"  his  voice  rose. 
"By  God!  It  will  go  hard  with  you  if  you've 
deceived  me." 

A  car  stopped  at  our  floor. 

"Down!"  yelled  Curlew.  He  sprang  to  the 
open  door  and,  momentarily  blocked  it  against 
the  elevator  boy,  he  turned  and  shouted : 

151 


IN  THE  DAEK 

*  *  Maybe  I  'm  wrong !  Train  going !  No  time ! 
But  you  keep  away!" 

The  gate  slammed.  I  turned  to  face  an 
amused  but  somewhat  worried  brother-in-law. 


152 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   PLEASURES   OF    MEDDLING 


friend   is    a    lively   person/'    he 
observed  mildly. 
"Did  you  hear  what  he  said?" 
"It  would  have  been  difficult  not  to  hear!" 
"Of  course  it  would.    He  was  speaking  of 
her—" 

"The  woman  from  nowhere?" 
"Why  do  you  call  her  that?" 
"I  believe  I  am  quoting  from  Edith." 
Another  elevator  paused  invitingly  before  us. 
Entering  automatically  we  were  forced  into 
silence  until  we  reached  the  main  floor. 

"Let's  go  across  the  street  to  that  little  cigar 
store,"  suggested  Carfax.  "My  lunch  can 
wait  a  bit.  I  think  you  want  to  say  something 
and  I  know  that  I  do." 

153 


IN  THE  DAEK 

We  found  a  quiet  spot  in  the  rear  of  " Dick's 
Place"  and  I  continued  my  explanation. 

"That  man  means  all  right,  George,  but  he 
has  an  excitable  disposition  and  no  control.  We 
parted  good  friends  last  Saturday  but  between 
now  and  then  a  suspicion  has  arisen  within  him 
so  he  rushes  up  to  me  on  his  way  to  the  station 
to  blurt  it  out.  Queer  chap." 

"I  don't  wish  to  seem  inquisitive,"  said  Car- 
fax, "but — how  closely  related  is  he  to  Miss — 
what  did  you  say  her  name  was  ? ' ' 

"I  didn't  say,"  I  answered  with  an  embar- 
rassed chuckle. 

"That's  so,  that's  so."  He  stroked  his  knee 
gently  and  waited.  "And  the  relation,  is  that 
also  secret?" 

"It  is  from  me.  I  really  do  not  know.  He 
is  a  man  who  has  known  her  for  many  years. 
That's  all  I  can  say." 

"I'm  not  just  plain  curious,"  said  Carfax, 
"though  I  understand  now  why  the  ladies  are 
so  feverishly  interested  in  the  affair.  The  fact 
is  that  I'm  trying  to  place  that  man.  Some- 

154 


THE  PLEASURES  OF  MEDDLING 

where  I've  seen  him  or  someone  like  him  un- 
der tense  circumstances.  I  don't  feel  that  the 
situation  was  to  his  credit.  Yet  I  have  no  rec- 
ollection of  repulsion  either.  I  just  feel  that 
he's  dangerous." 

"I  can  assure  you  that  he  is,"  I  remarked 
with  feeling.  "He's  a  distinctly  dangerous 
man,  but  I  don't  believe  that  he's  a  bad  one." 

'  *  Exactly  my  feeling, "  said  C  arf ax.  ' '  I  hope 
the  mysterious  lady  is  not  of  the  same  type." 

"Hardly." 

"Well,  it's  none  of  my  affair,"  he  said,  ris- 
ing. Then  he  broke  into  noisy  laughter. 
"This  is  really  awfully  funny.  You  drop  in  on 
me  to  give  me  a  friendly  warning  about  a 
possible  disturbance  in  my  peaceful  household. 
Yet,  you  yourself  are  being  pursued  by  a  reg- 
ular stage  villain  who  warns  you  against  at- 
tentions to  the  beautiful  unknown.  You  remind 
me  of  an  automobilist  who  passed  a  farmer 
friend  of  mine  who  was  driving  peacefully  to 
town.  The  speed-fiend  was  going  fifty  miles 
an  hour  and  had  only  two  wheels  on  the  road, 

155 


IN  THE  DARK 

but  he  yelled  back  to  the  farmer  that  his  horse 
was  lame,  just  before  the  car  skidded  into  the 
ditch!" 

"I  note  your  hint,"  I  remarked,  "but  I'm  not 
bound  for  the  ditch!" 

"That's  the  spirit,"  laughed  Carfax.  "I 
shouldn't  be  surprised,  if  the  women  nag  you 
enough,  to  see  you  grit  your  teeth  and  propose. 
It  needs  a  real  romance  to  drag  a  man  of  your 
stolid  age  and  comfortable  habits  down  on  his 
patellas." 

"I'm  not  there  yet!"  I  proclaimed. 

"Ho!  Ho!"  roared  Carfax  derisively  as  we 
parted  on  the  sidewalk.  "Boasting  of  your 
resistance!  You'll  be  an  easy  victim!  An- 
other wedding  present  before  spring!  I'll 
tell  Edith  to  begin  shopping  for  a  hall-clock 
right  away." 

He  departed  joyously. 

The  delegate  of  the  Family  Eescue  League 
spent  a  gloomy  hour  over  his  lonely  luncheon 
trying  to  concoct  the  satisfactory  report  of 
progress  to  "Madam  President,"  which  she 

156 


THE  PLEASURES  OF  MEDDLING 

would  expect  to  receive  that  evening.  All 
afternoon  I  struggled  with  the  problem  and 
when  sister  fixed  a  stern  eye  upon  me  from 
across  the  dinner  table  I  was  still  unprepared. 

" George  is  a  difficult  man  to  deal  with,"  I 
began  apologetically.  Of  course,  that  was  a 
tactical  error.  "He  hardly  listens  to  you  and 
then  plunges  at  once  into  one  of  his  elaborate 
theories.  It's  terribly  hard  to  argue  with  a 
man  full  of  theories.  You  can't  keep  him  on 
one  subject." 

"I  judge  that  you  didn't  make  much  impres- 
sion. I  suppose  George  took  it  all  as  a  joke 
coming  from  you,"  said  Dora,  jabbing  viciously 
at  a  pickled  pear. 

"Why  as  a  joke  from  me?" 

"Oh,  your  recent  conduct  hardly  gives  tone 
to  any  moral  pose  by  you.  I  realized  to-day 
that  I  should  have  gone  myself  but  thought  you 
might  as  well  try  your  hand." 

"Well,  I  can  assure  you,"  I  began  indig- 
nantly, "that  George  didn't  take  any  such  silly 
attitude  as  you  and  Edith  do.  He's  too  much 

157 


IN  THE  DARK 

of  a  man  to  presume  to  interfere  in  another 
man's  private  affairs." 

The  telephone  bell  rang.  Dora  stepped  into 
the  hall  where  the  instrument  stood  on  a  settee 
built  into  the  wall. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "this  is  I,  Edith— 
What's  that? —  Hold  the  wire  just  a  min- 
ute." 

She  put  down  the  receiver  and  came  to  the 
dining  room.  She  looked  more  than  usually 
correct  and  corrective.  She  spoke  with  de- 
liberate malice  in  each  changing  tone  of  her 
voice. 

"Edith  says  that  George  tells  her  something 
very  funny  occurred  to-day.  She  screams  so 
with  laughter  I  can't  understand  it  all,  but 
I  gather  that  Mr.  Curlew  is  still  pursuing 
you." 

"Why,  confound  him!"  I  cried,  jumping  up 
from  the  table.  "Let  me  talk  to  George." 

I  strode  out  and  seized  the  telephone. 

"Edith,"  I  said,  "kindly  ask  George  to  come 
to  the  phone —  No,  I  don't  wish  to  speak  to 

158 


THE  PLEASUEES  OF  MEDDLING 

you.    Will  you  please  ask  George? —    Thank 
you. ' ' 

The  receiver  stuttered  in  my  ear,  increasing 
my  annoyance  with  the  thought  that  someone 
else  might  be  on  the  line.  Then  there  was  a 
sudden  silence.  I  was  sure  that  "central"  had 
disconnected  me.  Dora  was  giggling  over  by 
the  dining  room  door. 

"Why  don't  you  go  back  and  finish  dinner?" 
I  demanded. 

"I  was  talking,"  she  said  coolly.  "You  took 
my  call  and  dismissed  my  party.  I'm  waiting 
till  your  lordship  is  through.  Besides  it 
amuses  me." 

"This  is  George,"  said  a  thin  voice. 

"Beastly  connection,"  I  shouted.  "Can  you 
hear  me?" 

"Yes,"  came  the  vigorous  answer  as  the  con- 
nection suddenly  cleared  with  an  ear-racking 
crack. 

"Why  did  you  tell  these  cackling  women 
about  that  little  incident  in  your  building?  I 
don't  think  that  was  very  decent." 

159 


IN  THE  DARK 

"Why  not?" 

"Well,  the  thing  was  rather  confidential!" 

"I  don't  recollect,"  said  George  calmly, 
"that  you  confided  anything  to  me  this  morn- 
ing— except — yes,  you  confided  to  me  the  opin- 
ions of  your  household  with  regard  to  this 
household." 

"I  trust  you  didn't  take  offense!" 

"Certainly  not.  I  believe  in  free  speech. 
That's  why  I  thought  Edith  and  I  had  the  same 
right  to  talk  about  your  affairs  that  you  and 
Dora  had  to  talk  about  Edith's.  Of  course,  I 
wouldn't  give  away  a  confidence.  If  you  re- 
gard Mr.  Curlew's  advice  to  you  to  'keep  away,' 
as  confidential,  despite  the  presence  of  an  ele- 
vator full  of  strangers,  I'll  expunge  it  from  the 
record ! ' ' 

"You  go  hang,"  I  said  half-cross,  half- 
amused.  "The  whole  family  is  a  joke." 

"It  certainly  is,"  said  Carfax  mockingly. 
"I'm  glad  you  see  the  point!" 

"I'm  going  back  to  dinner,"  I  announced. 
"Does  Edith  want  to  speak  to  Dora?" 

160 


THE  PLEASURES  OF  MEDDLING 

1  'Edith's  welcoming  guests,"  said  George. 
" How's  Dora's  sense  of  humor!" 

"Better  than  usual,"  I  said.  "Thanks  to 
you !  Good-bye. ' ' 

"You're  much  obliged!"  said  George. 

"Nice  cold  dinner,"  was  my  opening  remark 
on  reseating  myself  at  the  table. 

"That's  hardly  my  fault,"  replied  Dora. 
1 '  Gilbert,  it  seems  to  me  very  strange  that  this 
man  Curlew  should  be  following  you  around 
if  that  woman  were — " 

"In  the  name  of  sacred  charity!"  I  expos- 
tulated, "let's  stop  discussing  'that  woman'! 
Let's  quit  discussing  Edith  and  George  and 
me.  Let's  have  a  little  peace!" 

"Of  course,  if  you  are  going  to  lose  your 
temper, ' '  she  spoke  very  plaintively.  ' '  There 's 
no  use  trying  to  discuss  anything  with  you." 

"Very  well,"  I  said  ungraciously,  "please 
understand  that  I'm  going  to  lose  and  have 
lost  my  temper  and  that  it  will  stay  lost  as 
long  as  this  subject  abides  with  us." 

"Do  you  wish  coffee,  to-night?"  she  inquired. 
161 


IN  THE  DARK 

"Yes,  I  have  some  work  to  do." 

"I'll  tell  Hilda  to  serve  it  in  front."  The 
maid's  entry  provided  me  with  a  new  topic. 

"Her  vacation  did  her  good,"  I  said  as  she 
left  the  room.  "It  would  have  been  foolish 
for  her  to  have  stayed  here  and  lost  the  chance 
to  be  with  her  sister." 

"Man's  point  of  view!"  said  Dora.  "The 
place  got  in  a  fearful  state.  We're  still  try- 
ing to  catch  up  with  the  cleaning.  Keeping  a 
house  clean  in  Chicago  is  like  brushing  the 
snow  off  while  it  falls.  It  seems  a  futile  strug- 
gle but  if  you  relax  effort  for  a  few  days  the 
job  becomes  monumental." 

The  meal  ended  in  one  of  those  footless  dis- 
cussions of  the  burden  and  expense  of  living 
in  a  dirty  city  that  are  so  popular  in  Chicago 
families.  The  patient,  soot-streaked  face  of 
the  returning  citizen  must  be  a  nightly  civic 
inspiration  for  his  impatient,  dirt-combating 
wife.  The  suffragette  spouse  can  not  but  feel 
renewed  assurance  in  the  justice  of  her  cause 
as  she  observes  the  inefficiency  of  masculine 

162 


THE  PLEASURES  OF  MEDDLING 

government  so  neatly  symbolized  in  the  dirty 
collar. 

The  coffee-drinking  rite  concluded,  I  retired 
to  my  library  to  work.  Perhaps  that  is  hardly 
a  fair  statement.  I  was  about  to  write  my  first 
letter  to  Gwenn.  The  meeting  with  Curlew  was 
my  excuse.  I  began  carefully : 

"Mr  DEAR  Miss  LITTLEFIELD : — 
An  unexpected  encounter — " 

Then  I  paused.  It  seemed  a  bit  too  formal. 
I  tore  it  up.  I  spent  an  hour  or  so  writing  and 
tearing  up  letters.  Then  a  real  thought  came 
to  me.  I  destroyed  my  last  four  page  effort 
and  wrote: 

"My  DEAR  Miss  LITTLEFIELD : — 

Something  has  happened  of  sufficient  importance 
so  that  I  feel  I  ought  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you. 
It  is  nothing  to  alarm  you,  but  you  should  be  in- 
formed. May  I  call  to-morrow  (Tuesday)  evening? 
Will  you  telephone  me  if  this  is  inconvenient?  If  I 
do  not  hear  from  you  I  shall  appear. 

Sincerely  yours, 

GILBERT  WINSTON." 

163 


IN  THE  DAEK 

I  posted  that  letter  with  much  enjoyment.  I 
should  see  her  in  the  evening.  She  was  almost 
certain  to  hafe  no  engagement,  so  my  sugges- 
tion of  telephoning  was  a  mere  formality. 

I  felt  so  good  natured  that  when  I  returned 
to  the  apartment  I  astonished  Dora  by  kissing 
her  good-night,  as  she  sat  drowsing  over  a  book 
in  front  of  the  fireplace. 

After  I  had  retired  I  found  myself  less  sleepy 
than  I  had  supposed.  " Coffee,"  I  accused  my- 
self. So  I  reached  up  to  turn  on  the  light  and 
by  that  action  brought  vigorously  back  to  mind 
the  startling  events  of  a  few  nights  before. 
Again  I  could  feel  Curlew's  lean,  strong  hand 
clutch  my  wrist.  My  thoughts  slipped  back  to 
the  hour  with  her  when  she  told  me  her  pathetic 
little  story,  the  chain  of  circumstances  that 
brought  her  into  my  hearth  light  from  the 
"World  Outside. 

To-morrow  I  should  see  her  again!  It  had 
been  two  days  since  I  had  watched  her  question- 
ing smile  gladden  the  drooping  mouth,  noted 
how  heightened  interest  opened  wide  her  won- 

164 


THE  PLEASURES  OF  MEDDLING 

dering  eyes,  and  tingled  when  she  met  my  gaze 
full  and  square.  Like  a  boy  of  eighteen  I  re- 
hearsed and  rehearsed  with  renewed  delight 
each  sharp  memory  of  some  word,  or  look  or 
action,  that  had  left  a  special  impress.  I  was 
a  boy  of  eighteen.  I  had  known  brief  passions 
before,  but  never  utter  devotion  of  spirit. 
Whether  such  ardor  comes  first  at  eighteen  or 
thirty-five,  it  demands,  it  calls  forth,  the  soul 
of  youth  to  pledge  for  once  and  once  only  all 
the  richest  gifts  of  being  to  the  service  of  her 
for  whom  they  were  given — the  woman  en- 
throned. I  should  see  her  again  to-morrow — 
to-morrow — a  wonderful  hope  with  which  to 
close  the  day. 


165 


CHAPTER  XI 

GWENN 

IT  was  just  about  noon  when  I  heard  her  voice 
over  the  telephone. 

"I  should  like  to  see  you  very  much  this  even- 
ing," she  said,  "but  I'm  a  little  embarrassed  to 
know  where.  The  parlor  of  the  house  with  its 
guard  of  beady-eyed  old  ladies  would  be  bad 
enough  at  best.  Unfortunately  it  is  being  dec- 
orated now.  Ugh!  The  place  reeks  with  cal- 
cimine and  varnish!" 

"I'm  glad  you  called  up,"  I  answered,  "es- 
pecially since  it  isn't  to  plead  another  engage- 
ment. It  has  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  it 
would  be  well  for  me  to  meet  you  less  ostenta- 
tiously, anyhow,  for  a  few  days.  I'll  explain 
why  when  I  see  you!" 

"Hasn't  he  left  town?"  she  asked  with  a 
quick  note  of  alarm. 

166 


GWENN 

"Oh,  yes.  That's  all  right.  Don't  worry. 
I'll  call  in  a  taxi-cab  and  we'll  ride  to  a  little 
restaurant  out  south  where  we  can  get  a  quiet 
table,  listen  to  some  poor  music  and  talk  things 
over.  Will  that  be  all  right?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  doubtfully,  "you're  not 
afraid  of  being  seen  in  public  with  me,  are  you  ? 
It's  just  at  the  boarding  house,  I  presume !" 

"That's  unjust."  I  was  much  confused. 
"You  know  that  isn't  the  reason.  I  wish  to 
protect  you,  not  myself." 

"Come  to  think  of  it — wait  a  minute — some- 
one just  stepped  into  the  room  where  this  phone 
is.  I  didn't  want  anyone  to  hear  this.  I  think 
my  landlady,  who  is  a  most  proper  person, 
would  be  quite  shocked  at  my  going  out  in  a 
taxi-cab  with  a  dashing  gentleman." 

' '  Oh,  come  now ! "  I  protested. 

"I  was  speaking  from  the  boarding-house 
standpoint!"  she  explained.  "I  don't  wish  to 
create  a  bad  impression  the  first  week.  I'll 
slip  out  to  the  corner  drug-store — 'Bang's' — 
you  know — at — say,  eight  o'clock.  You  drive 

167 


IN  THE  DAKK 

up  there — the  side  street  entrance — and  then 
I'll  come  out  and  pop  into  the  car  and  no  one 
will  be  any  wiser.  It  will  seem  like  quite  an 
adventure!" 

' '  Good  for  you ! "  I  exclaimed.  ' '  I  '11  be  thero 
at  eight  o'clock  sharp." 

I  passed  a  very  tiresome  afternoon.  I  an- 
ticipated a  very  poor  dinner  at  the  Club.  Of 
course,  Dora  was  peevish  when  I  telephoned 
that  I  was  forced  to  stay  down  for  dinner. 

"Does  the  mysterious  lady  demand  dinner?" 
she  said,  nastily  suspecting  my  intentions. 

"I'm  going  to  dine  at  the  Club,"  I  replied 
curtly.  "Call  me  up  there  if  you  don't  believe 
me." 

"Expect  to  meet  her  afterwards,  evidently," 
she  surmised.  "Why  not  be  a  sport,  Gilbert, 
and  take  her  to  dinner.  Still,  I  suppose  she 
can't  eat  with  a  veil  on.  I  know  she  wears 
one.  All  adventuresses  do.  'The  tall,  svelte 
woman,  quietly  gowned  in  cerise  velvet  and 
heavily  veiled,  swept  mysteriously  across  the 
crowded  dining  room.'  " 

168 


GWENN 

The  thought  presented  itself  for  the  first 
time:  Why  hadn't  I  asked  her  to  dinner? 
Stupid  fool  that  I  was !  I  had  been  so  excited 
over  the  prospect  of  seeing  her  in  the  evening 
that  I  hadn't  considered  an  earlier  appoint- 
ment. 

"Good-bye,"  I  said,  abruptly,  to  sister. 

Then  I  gazed  vaguely  at  the  telephone  direc- 
tory. If  I  only  knew  where  she  was  employed ! 
A  large  mail-order  house,  she  had  said.  There 
were  only  a  few.  I  could  call  them  up  in  turn 
and  simply  ask  for  Miss  Littlefield. 

The  first  number  drawn  was  a  blank.  "No 
such  person  here,"  said  the  operator  deci- 
sively. 

"What  department?"  was  the  response  from 
the  next  house. 

"I'm  not  sure,"  I  said. 

"I  don't  know  of  anyone  here,"  began  the 
telephone  girl. 

"Will  you  inquire!  I'm  quite  positive." 
My  tone  was  far  from  positive. 

"Just  a  minute — Oh,  yes,  assistant  to  Mr. 
169 


IN  THE  DAEK 

Jones; — line  is  busy;  will  you  hold  the 
wire?" 

"Yes!"  That  blessed  girl  had  deceived  me 
by  telling  me  the  real  name  of  her  new  boss. 
Perhaps  the  former  one's  name  had  been 
Smith! 

"Here  you  are." 

"Miss  Littlefield?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  a  startled  voice. 

"This  is  Mr.  Winston.  I  beg  a  thousand 
pardons,  for  being  so  slow  to  think,  but,  won't 
you  take  dinner  with  me?" 

"How  did  you  find" — she  began  excitedly; 
then  she  shifted  to  a  level  tone  of  business. 
"Thank  you,  no.  It's  very  thoughtful  of  you. 
I'm  very  busy  now  so  please  excuse  me." 

The  click  of  disconnection  filled  me  with  dis- 
may. Was  she  offended  because  I  had  searched 
out  her  workshop  ?  Perhaps  she  would  not  ap- 
pear at  eight  o'clock. 

I  dread  a  misunderstanding  over  the  tele- 
phone. It's  so  hard  to  tell  what  the  other  per- 
son is  thinking,  even  if  you  are  sure  that  each 

170 


GWENN 

of  you  is  hearing  the  other  aright.  Then  it's 
so  easy  to  dismiss  one  in  the  midst  of  apologies. 
No  opportunity  to  change  a  mistaken  notion 
while  being  politely  shown  the  door!  Just, 
click!  and  you  are  left  talking  to  an  automaton 
central  operator  who  demands  to  know,  "  num- 
ber, please!"  or  cruelly  suggests,  "I'll  ring 
them  again!" 

Dinner  at  the  Club  was  worse  than  I  had  ex- 
pected. My  pet  waiter  was  ill,  so  I  had  a  stupid 
substitute,  a  water-boy  temporarily  raised  to 
man's  estate.  The  responsibility  robbed  him 
of  the  little  intelligence  he  had  previously 
owned.  Everything  arrived  cold.  Then  Gib- 
ley  roamed  in  and  joined  me  uninvited.  He 
never  said:  "May  I  play,"  even  in  bridge. 
The  rest  of  the  meal  was  characterized  by  soggi- 
ness;  soggy  food,  soggy  thoughts,  soggy  hope. 

"There's  talk  of  imposing  a  service  charge 
in  the  main  dining-room,"  observed  Gibley. 
"Imposition  it  is,  I  say.  What  do  we  pay  our 
dues  for?" 

Gibley  was  always  interested  in  some  such 
171 


IN  THE  DAEK 

vital  question  as  that ;  always  argued  by  the  as- 
sertion-and-question  method. 

"I  suppose  we  pay  for  the  general  club  fa- 
cilities," I  answered.  I  was  hostile  to  the  pro- 
posed service  charge  but  when  Gibley  attacked 
anything  I  instinctively  fell  in  with  the  defense. 

" Isn't  service  in  the  dining-room  one?"  he 
demanded.  "Most  important  one!  Club's 
largely  a  place  to  eat." 

"And  drink,"  I  added. 

"And  drink,"  he  echoed  cordially.  "We'll 
have  a  service  charge  from  the  bar,  yet." 
There  was  a  tragic  sound  of  horror  in  his  voice. 

"No,  the  bar  pays.  The  restaurant  loses. 
You  pay  a  service  charge  on  billiards  or  that 
would  lose  also." 

"No,  I  don't."  He  paused  for  effect.  "I 
don't  play  billiards,"  he  roared  appreciatively. 
This  was  a  typical  Gibley  jest.  He  would  re- 
peat it  for  days  to  all  who  would  listen.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  I  saw  happy  diners  around 
us  shudder  in  anticipation,  as  they  heard  his 
mirth. 

172 


GWENN 

Gibley  continued  entertaining  me  in  this  vein 
for  an  hour,  during  dinner  and  in  the  lounging 
room.  At  quarter  of  eight  I  rose  gladly.  He 
accompanied  me  kindly  to  the  cloak-room.  As 
we  were  getting  into  our  coats  he  made  his  first 
interesting  remark: 

"Saw  a  chap  who  said  he  knew  you  to-day. 
Seemed  quite  interested  in  you.  Queer  fish — 
name's  Curlew.  I  know  some  funny  things 
about  him;  was  going  to  tell  you,  but  since 
you're  in  such  a  hurry  it'll  have  to  wait." 

I  cursed  him  roundly  to  myself.  The  Gib- 
leys  of  life  always  bore  you  by  the  hour  and 
omit  to  speak  of  just  the  things  that  they  might 
know  would  be  sure  to  interest  you.  That  is, 
of  course,  the  reason  why  they  are  wearisome. 
Bores  talk  to  interest  themselves;  not  their 
listeners. 

"I  am  in  a  hurry,"  I  said,  mastering  my  an- 
noyance. "But  I'm  interested  in  Curlew. 
Can't  I  see  you  to-morrow?  How  about  lunch- 
ing together?  Twelve-thirty?  All  right." 

During  the  short  ride  in  the  taxi-cab  I  contin- 
173 


IN  THE  DARK 

ued  to  curse  Gibley.  I  didn't  want  to  lunch 
with  him.  I  hate  to  lunch  with  a  man  just  to 
get  information.  Every  meal  is  to  me  in  a  way 
a  social  function.  If  I  can  not  have  enjoyable 
companionship  I  wish  to  eat  alone.  A  business 
friendship  is  just  as  good  and  square  a  proposi- 
tion of  common  interest  as  a  purely  social  one. 
But  making  a  pretense  of  human  interest  where 
there  is  only  business  interest  seems  like  a 
truckling  hypocrisy.  I  can't  stand  for  it  and, 
being  a  bachelor,  I  don't. 

It  occurred  to  me  most  unpleasantly  that  un- 
til a  woman  came  into  my  life  I  had  stuck  to 
this  principle  since  its  formulation  in  my  first 
year  of  business.  Was  it  typical  of  the  future 
I  hoped  for,  that  thought  for  her,  the  wish  to 
serve  her,  should  break  down  my  scruples? 
As  the  car  stopped  beside  the  appointed  drug- 
store I  chided  myself.  Every  good  woman 
must  be  an  inspiration  for  right  living.  I  had 
been  bred  up  to  that  idea.  It  must  be  so — yet, 
yet — I  peered  out  of  the  window,  anxiously. 
Was  she  going  to  break  the  appointment !  The 

174 


GWENN 

store  door  opened.  Gwenn  ran  across  the  side- 
walk. I  pushed  open  the  car  door  and  she 
slipped  in.  The  machine  jerked  forward  and 
the  driver  swung  it  around  toward  the  boule- 
vard, according  to  his  instructions. 

"My!"  exclaimed  the  lady,  "everything  has 
become  so  mysterious  and  exciting  in  my  life 
lately  that  I've  been  awfully  bored  since  Sat- 
urday. If  you  had  come  to  call  in  the  regular, 
prissy  way  I'm  sure  I  should  have  felt  very 
dull.  Don't  apologize !  You  see,  I  don't !  But 
here  we  are  again,  clandestine  rendezvous,  in- 
visible companion  in  dark  sinister  car,  bound 
for  the  unknown. ' ' 

I  laughed  extravagantly  in  my  relief.  She 
had  not  been  offended  with  me. 

"Very  prosaic  excursion,  really,"  I  said, 
"meeting  at  a  drug  store,  rattletrap  taxi-cab, 
clanking  its  way  to  the  Crystal  Cafe." 

"That's  a  new  place,  isn't  it!  I've  seen 
something  in  the  papers." 

"It's  a  dull,  harmless  spot,"  I  explained. 
"The  proprietors  have  shrewdly  built  a  foun- 

175 


IN  THE  DAEK 

tain,  the  size  of  a  hip-bath,  in  the  centre  of  the 
main  room.  On  the  opening  night  they  de- 
coyed one  of  the  young  bloods  to  it  and  I've 
always  suspected  that  a  waiter  pushed  him  in. 
They  had  a  tableful  of  reporters  near  by  drink- 
ing freely  on  the  house  so  there  was  a  large 
free  advertisement  in  all  the  morning  papers. 
The  local  clergy  were  stirred  up  to  protest 
against  the  invasion  of  a  residence  neighbor- 
hood by  what  one  called,  'this  swimming  pool 
of  vice.'  That's  all  press  agent  work.  Fact 
is,  the  place  is  ultra-respectable  and  until  after 
theatre  hours  utterly  dead.  That's  why  we  are 
going  there." 

"How  did  you  know  where  to  call  me  up  this 
afternoon?"  she  demanded,  without  introduc- 
tion. 

"I  didn't  know.  I  just  phoned  every  mail- 
order house  until  I  found  you." 

"I  wish  I  had  told  you,  wholesale  dry- 
goods,"  she  said  viciously.  "You  could  have 
put  in  the  afternoon  at  that.  You  don't  play 
fair.  You  promised  not  to  investigate  me." 

176 


GWENN 

"I  promised  not  to  seek  out  your  hidden 
past,"  I  retorted.  "You  never  barred  the 
present  to  me.  I  hope  you  won't."  The  last 
sentence  was  unexpectedly  fervent. 

"Have  you  any  bad  news  for  me!"  she  said 
abruptly. 

"Not  exactly,  but  a  little  that's  disquieting. 
Let's  wait  until  we  are  comfortable.  This  rat- 
tling cab  makes  it  difficult  for  me  to  talk  about 
important  matters,  when  I  want  to  speak 
plainly  and  be  surely  understood."  An  hour 
or  so  later  I  remembered  that  remark  when  I 
was  vainly  struggling  to  say  something  most 
important  and  blessing  the  jangle  that  helped 
to  cover  my  confusion. 

When  we  were  snugly  placed  in  a  half-con- 
cealed corner  of  the  garish  Crystal  Cafe  I  sug- 
gested something  in  the  way  of  food. 

"I  refused  dinner,"  she  said  smiling.  "I 
had  an  engagement  to  dine  with  the  new  'mis- 
sus.' " 

"Can't  I  order  something  in  the  way  of  a 
dessert?"  I  suggested.  "I  have  no  faith  in 

177 


IN  THE  DAEK 

any  boarding  house  delicacies.  Or  may  I  or- 
der some  wine.  Please  don't  think  I'm  mak- 
ing the  suggestion  of  'Johnny  setting  up  a 
tub  of  fizz'  but  I  must  do  something  to  satisfy 
the  waiter.  You  don't  need  to  drink  it,  you 
know." 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  have  a  real  wish  for 
something  I  can't  eat  at  home,  crackers  and 
cheese  and  coffee ;  the  cheese  is  always  dry,  the 
crackers  cold  and  coffee  unspeakable!" 

The  waiter  received  the  order  with  the  cus- 
tomary irritation  of  the  cafe  attendant  denied 
the  prospect  of  alcoholic  generosity  in  the  tip. 
He  placed  the  wine  card  before  me.  I  said, 
" thank  you,"  and  returned  it.  He  gazed  pity- 
ingly at  the  lady  escorted  by  a  "tight-wad." 
He  walked  away  very  slowly.  I  felt  sure  that 
we  would  not  be  greatly  bothered  with  his  at- 
tentions. 

'  *  Mr.  Curlew  dropped  in  on  me  a  few  minutes 
before  his  train  left.  He  said  he  suspected 
that  I  might  have  deceived  him.  He  said  he 
was  forced  to  leave  town  but  that  he  had  ar- 

178 


GWENN 

ranged  so  that  Le  should  find  out.  I  think  that 
means  that  he  is  going  to  have  you  *  shad- 
owed.' " 

"By  detectives?" 

" That's  all  I  can  see  that  it  means  if  it  wasn't 
merely  an  idle  threat. ' ' 

"He  doesn't  make  idle  threats,"  she  said 
with  conviction. 

I  decided  on  the  spot  that  I  would  say  noth- 
ing regarding  his  advice  to  me  to  keep  away. 
She  might  conceive  it  to  be  her  duty  to  keep 
me  away.  Of  course,  I  didn't  care  for  the  idea 
of  provoking  Curlew 's  wrath,  but  keeping  away 
from  her  was  quite  inconceivable — preposter- 
ous— well,  simply  impossible.  I  might  as  well 
acknowledge  it;  I  was  in  that  pleasant  lunacy 
where  I  was  willing  to  take  any  part  assigned 
to  me  except  that  of  absent  friend.  I  would 
gladly  personify  any  useful  object,  from  pocket- 
book  to  doormat,  just  so  that  I  might  be  of 
service  and  that  she  might  be  pleased  to  have 
me  near  at  hand. 

"Then  you  can  reasonably  expect  to  be  un- 
179 


IN  THE  DAKK 

der  surveillance.  I  wonder  if  we  were  followed 
to-night?" 

She  looked  around  the  room  apprehensively. 

"There's  no  harm  if  we  are,"  I  suggested. 
"If  we  only  had  a  table  loaded  with  glasses 
it  might  help  prove  the  deception." 

She  laughed. 

"The  better  I  behave,  the  worse  for  me," 
she  said.  "The  more  wicked  I  appear,  the 
safer  I'll  be — oh — oh,"  she  stopped  and  flushed 
deeply. 

The  same  thought  had  occurred  to  me.  She 
avoided  my  eye  for  a  few  moments.  Then  she 
pressed  her  lips  together  with  a  most  attractive 
air  of  conquered  diffidence  and  looked  up 
bravely. 

"You  thought  of  the  same  thing,"  she  ac- 
cused. 

"Yes,  I  did,"  I  admitted,  "it  seemed  so 
obvious  a  solution.  There  are  a  lot  of  the 
quite  improper  places  where  perfectly  respect- 
able people  go  to  satisfy  a  quite  unrespectable 

180 


GWENN 

curiosity.    We  could  be  seen  a  great  deal  in 
such  places.'* 

"From  there  to  the  really  bad  places 
wouldn't  be  much  of  a  step,  would  it?" 

"Not  for  a  man.  Quite  impossible  for  you." 
I  was  firm  on  that  point. 

"I  suppose  the  improper  places  would  seem 
bad  enough  to  me  and  appear  utterly  disgrace- 
ful in  a  detective's  report.  I've  never  been 
to  any  such.  I  should  think  it  might  be  in- 
teresting. ' ' 

"Some  people  find  it  so,"  I  sneered.  "Mor- 
bid interest,  I  think,  in  human  weakness.  With- 
out the  blur  of  alcohol  it  usually  seems  pretty 
nasty,  sordid  stuff  to  pry  into." 

"It  shows  up  one  side  of  life,  doesn't  it?" 
she  argued.  "How  can  you  appreciate  life  if 
you  don't  know  all  sides?" 

"I  suppose  you  can't,"  I  said.  "But  just 
walk  down  the  street,  look  at  the  house  fronts 
and  then  enter  a  few  living  rooms — that  will 
give  you  a  pretty  fair  knowledge  of  the  charac- 

181 


IN  THE  DAEK 

ter  of  people  in  the  block.  I  don't  think  it's 
necessary  to  go  poking  into  the  cans  that  are 
put  out  in  the  alley.  People  give  themselves 
away  enough  at  the  front  door.  Social  students 
don't  need  to  prowl  in  back  passages. " 

"  You  aren't  very  enthusiastic  over  the  idea," 
she  said.  " Perhaps  it  was  a  foolish  thought." 

"In  the  present  situation,"  I  protested,  "I 
think  it  is  a  great  idea.  If  you  will  accept 
my  company  we'll  make  expeditions  to  all  the 
tough  places  in  town  that  are  not  unsafe  or  ut- 
terly impossible.  If  we  can  only  be  sure  that 
Curlew's  detectives  are  on  the  trail!  Of 
course,  the  only  way  to  be  sure  of  that  would 
be  to  notify  the  agency  and  take  the  'shadow,' 
with  us.  Otherwise  we  may  lose  him  just  when 
we  are  about  to  appear  most  wicked." 

"You  haven't  a  high  opinion  of  detectives," 
she  remarked.  "I've  always  thought  that  they 
did  very  wonderful  things." 

"My  experience  is  that  they  do  very  stupid 
things.  By  the  way,  was  there  a  motor-cyclist 
in  the  drug  store  before  you  met  me  1 " 

182 


GWENN 

1  'I  believe  there  was,"  she  stared  question- 
ingly.  "Why  do  you  ask!" 

"Look  at  the  table  over  by  the  door,  just 
beyond  the  pillar.  Is  that  the  same  man?" 

' '  It  certainly  is.  I  remember  his  funny  little 
nose.  Has  he  followed  us?" 

' l  Evidently  and  in  a  typically  stupid,  obvious 
way.  He  was  outside  the  Club ;  heard  me  give 
directions  and  scooted  to  the  store  ahead  of 
me.  Hadn't  I  better  order  some  highballs  and 
start  the  gay  life?" 

"I  hate  whiskey." 

"Would  you  care  to  drink  anything  else? 
No?  Then  I'll  order  the  highballs.  Give  you 
more  the  appearance  of  an  old  stager.  He'll 
note  it  down  for  his  report,  'two  highballs,' 
and  probably  try  to  find  out  from  the  waiter 
whether  they  were  Scotch,  Bourbon  or  Bye. 
You  can  pour  yours  out  bit  by  bit  into  that 
palm  beside  you.  Don't  let  him  see  you  do 
it." 

"Isn't  it  exciting?"  she  whispered. 

"Oh,  very,"  I  said  dryly.  "We'll  have  to 
183 


IN  THE  DARK 

find  some  intoxicant  for  you  to  drink  if  we  are 
to  start  the  pursuit  of  sin." 

"I  could  drink  a  little  beer,"  she  suggested 
so  timorously  that  I  laughed  aloud. 

''You  have  had  a  fine  preparation  for  this 
job,  I  can  see.  "Well,  beer  is  standard  in  most 
of  the  bum  joints.  Very  poor  beer  at  a  large 
price." 

"You  seem  to  know  something  about  them," 
she  said  quizzically. 

"Not  a  great  deal,"  I  said  hastily.  "And 
what  knowledge  I  have  I'm  not  proud  of. 
Eighteen  to  twenty-five  is  the  age  for  boasting 
of  folly.  I'm  a  little  older  than  that." 

"One  thing  I  must  have  an  understanding 
about,"  she  spoke  hesitatingly,  "if  we  decide  to 
go  on  any  of  these  excursions  they  must  be 
'dutch  treat.'  I  couldn't  think  of  accepting 
your  aid  solely  for  my  comfort  and  having  you 
pay  for  the  privilege  of  helping." 

"Now  that's  because  I  spoke  of  the  large 
price  of  beer!"  I  remonstrated.  "Such  jaunts 
won't  be,  in  any  real  sense,  expensive.  I'll 

184 


GWENN 

not  order  champagne.  They  will  be  just  like 
any  other  evenings.  I  ask  you  to  accompany 
me  on  inspection  tours  of  the  forcing-houses  for 
the  red-light  district,  so  that  you  may  observe 
the  floriculture  of  mistakes. ' ' 

The  metaphor  pleased  me  and  I  became  orac- 
ular: "You  will  find  the  places  warm,  well- 
lighted  and  heavily  perfumed,  very  much  the 
same  atmosphere  as  that  of  a  theatre ;  possibly 
the  ventilation  will  be  better.  You  will  see 
farce,  comedy  and  tragedy  all  acted  by  mum- 
mers who  play  at  life  because  they  lack  the 
strong  souls  with  which  to  play  with  life.  You 
will  hear  the  tinkle  of  thin  music,  the  folk- 
songs of  sowers  who  dread  to  reap,  who  ever 
sing  of  the  sowing  and  never  of  the  harvest. 
You  will  hear  paid  laughter  like  the  hard  ring 
of  silver  and  the  snarl  of  cheap  jests  that  cost 
someone  dear.  You  will  see  soft  steel  and  ten- 
der claws,  repulsive  charm  and  greedy  gener- 
osity. 

"It  will  be  merely  slipping  from  one  theatre 
to  another,  seeing  one  act  here,  another  there, 

185 


IN  THE  DAEK 

nothing  real — to  you.  You  mustn't  spoil  it  by 
thinking  it's  real.  Take  it  as  a  show.  I  in- 
vite you  to  go  with  me.  It  will  interest  you 
and  I  shall  be  interested  in  your  interest." 

"You  make  it  hard  for  me — but  really — " 
she  was  much  distressed. 

"Very  well,"  I  announced,  "I'll  keep  a  pocket 
memorandum  and  render  you  an  account  of 
your  expense  every  week." 

"Thank  you."  This  silly  thing  really  had 
worried  her. 

The  highballs  which  we  were  to  cast  upon  the 
bow  of  our  ship  of  false  adventure  now  arrived. 
It  was  time  to  launch  the  craft. 

We  raised  our  glasses.  Under  the  shield  of 
her  large  hat  she  turned  and  emptied  part 
of  hers  into  the  convenient  palm.  I  had  put 
mine  to  my  lips  when  something  in  her  profile 
arrested  me  momentarily.  A  crazy  thought 
flickered  before  me.  It  resolved  itself  into  a 
sudden  purpose.  The  very  absurdity  of  it  at- 
tracted me,  the  hazardous  folly — no,  not  folly 
— the  splendid  risk — that  was  it!  I  put  down 

186 


GWENN 

the  glass  untasted.  I  did  not  want  alcohol  on 
my  breath  or  in  my  thoughts  at  such  a  time. 

" Exchange  glasses,"  I  said,  "and  throw 
away  part  of  mine." 

We  slipped  them  across  the  table  and  touched 
them  together  again.  I  lifted  hers  to  my 
mouth.  By  George!  she  poured  fully  half  of 
mine  into  the  palm! 

"W.C.T.UJ"  I  inquired. 

"No,"  she  said,  "Nor  Y.W.C.A.  But  I  hate 
whiskey.  I  just  do." 

"You  don't  like  me  to  drink  it?"  I  bantered. 

"It  isn't  that,"  she  explained.  "But  we've 
made  a  little  compact  to  go  sightseeing  for  a 
queer  purpose.  I  expect  to  enjoy  myself  do- 
ing it.  It's  seeing  life,  in  a  way.  But  some- 
how after  what  you've  just  been  saying  I  have 
an  extra  hate  for  that  coarse,  brutal  drink  with 
its  bad  odor  that  sort  of  represents  all  the 
worst  of  that  kind  of  pleasure." 

"A  big  effect  for  a  small  payment — at  the 
time. ' ' 

"Something  like  that.  Wine  has  a  romance 
187 


IN  THE  DAKK 

to  it,  taste,  gentle  perfume,  soft  color,  pretty 
glasses,  all  the  neat  customs  that  go  with  it. 
Its  part  in  life  at  the  worst  has  not  been  all 
bad;  there's  been  so  much  beauty  and  hope 
in  it.  But  whiskey — an  ugly  black  bottle,  a 
little,  bad  smelling  drink  poured  out  of  it  and 
swallowed  rapidly  so  that  there  will  be  only 
one  raw  taste  of  concentrated  meanness. 
That's  what  I  call  it.  I  had  an  uncle  who  'took 
it  straight.'  It  was  the  only  thing  in  life  he 
did  take  straight.  I  hate  it." 

" Let's  leave  this  place,"  I  suggested.  "I 
have  a  real  idea.  I'll  explain  it  in  the  cab." 

We  prepared  to  go  with  sufficient  delibera- 
tion to  warn  the  motor-cyclist.  "VVe  didn  't  wish 
to  inconvenience  him!  He  should  have  plenty 
of  time  to  prepare  for  the  trail  again. 

"Drive  out  to  that  north-side  German  gar- 
den— beyond  Lincoln  Park — "  I  said  to  the 
chauffeur —  "Yes,  that's  it —  Don't  burn  off 
your  tires  getting  there.  I  don't  care  to  be 
arrested. ' ' 

"Never  was  but  once,"  he  replied  cheerfully. 
188 


GWENN 

"We  jolted  over  some  car  tracks  and  then  ran 
onto  the  smooth  boulevard. 

The  time  had  come — for  just  what  I  didn't 
know — except  that  I  must  say  something,  which 
was  hard  to  say.  We  ought  not  continue  any 
longer  on  this  embarrassing  basis  of  a  sudden 
acquaintance,  too  intimate  to  be  casual,  yet  too 
uncertain  of  intent  to  be  comfortable.  I 
wanted  to  tell  her  why  I  wished  to  be  with  her, 
to  serve  her  where  I  might.  How  much  I 
dared  to  tell,  how  far  I  dared  to  leap,  I  did  not 
know,  but  some  word  must  be  spoken  to  brush 
aside  the  mist  which  hung  between  us.  Old  ac- 
quaintances need  no  words  to  define  their  feel- 
ings. A  thousand  little  intimacies  give  them 
understanding.  But  we  had  known  each  other 
a  very  short  time;  yet,  under  such  trying  cir- 
cumstances that  we  had  been  forced  into  sudden 
confidences.  In  one  moment  we  talked  as  old, 
dear  friends  and  in  the  next  we  sat  silent  and 
confused. 

Yet  I  did  not  really  know  her;  at  least  that 
was  what  my  sisters  would  say.  In  fact  I  did 

189 


IN  THE  DAEK 

know  her.  I  felt  a  trust  in  her  that  meant  far 
more  to  me  than  knowledge  of  the  location  of 
her  home  town,  the  type  of  school  she  had  at- 
tended, the  names  of  her  parents,  the  date  of 
her  birth  and  all  the  other  set  forms  of  in- 
formation that  stand  for  so  much  in  the  domains 
of  propriety  and  mean  so  little.  I  didn't  care 
whether  she  had  been  married  or  not.  But 
— the  final  "but" — perhaps  she  was  married? 
— To  blurt  out  a  formal  proposal  under  the  cir- 
cumstances seemed  silly — yet  I  knew  that  I 
loved  her,  and,  married  or  single,  whoever  she 
was,  wherever  she  had  come  from,  she  was 
here  with  me — and  perhaps  she  needed  me. 
She  couldn't  speak.  I  must.  It  was  the  time 
for  the  splendid  risk! 

I  was  acutely  conscious  of  the  absurd  fact 
that  my  tongue  felt  like  a  piece  of  blotting 
paper.  Of  course,  just  when  I  desired  to 
muster  all  the  sincerity  and  depth  of  feeling  I 
possessed  and  put  it  into  simple  strong  words, 
my  tongue  became  incapable  of  liquid  utter- 
ance !  Then  power  to  concentrate  thought  and 

190 


GWENN 

mill  it  in  speech  suddenly  left  me.  What  on 
earth  was  I  going  to  say?  How  was  I  going 
to  say  it? 

' '  Miss  Fenton, ' '  I  whispered  hoarsely.  Then 
I  set  my  jaw  muscles  and  tried  to  speak  nor- 
mally. "We've  seen  a  great  deal  of  each  other 
in  a  few  days.  We've  been  what  might  be 
called  very  intimate  on  short  acquaintance. 
You  may  feel  at  times,  on  account  of  that  and 
because  I  know  so  little  of  you  except  that  you 
are  you,  that  I  may — may — well — not  distrust 
you — but  at  least  not  give  you  whole-hearted 
confidence.  Feeling  that  way  you  may  not  have 
full  faith  in  me. ' ' 

"I  have,"  she  said  quickly  and  firmly. 

I  caught  the  gleam  of  her  eyes  in  the  dark 
corner  of  the  cab.  Then  a  passing  car  cast 
the  full  glare  of  the  lamps  on  her  face  for  a 
moment.  There  was  a  look  in  it,  that  I  might 
almost  call  serene  content,  that  quite  unnerved 
me.  I  felt  as  though  for  the  moment  she  had 
been  content  with  me,  as  though  for  one  mo- 
ment, miserable,  mistake-making,  half-civilized 

191 


IN  THE  DARK 

person  that  I  was,  I  appeared  without  flaw  to 
her,  to  her,  the  truly  flawless  one.  Of  course, 
I  didn't  accept  myself  as  such  a  poor  thing, 
or  her  content  as  perfect — except  for  just  the 
moment — one  moment  of  blind  adoration  re- 
sponding to  blind  faith. 

"I've  been  sorely  tempted  to  tell  you  many 
things,"  she  said  haltingly.  " You've  so  gen- 
erously taken  all  for  granted.  Yet,  as  I  said 
before,  they  are  things  which  are  not  mine  to 
tell.  Anything  which  was  my  secret  alone  you 
might  have." 

" There's  just  one  I  want,"  I  interrupted.  I 
didn't  know  what  I  was  going  to  say.  I  didn't 
care  to  know.  I  wanted  to  plunge  on  the  great 
risk.  "I  don't  wish  to  hear  the  other  secrets. 
It  gives  me  a  bigger  joy  to  take  them  all  for 
good,  because  you  say  so  and  you  are  you. 
Don't  stop  me!  This  one  thing  is  all  I  wish 
to  know.  It's  your  secret,  yours  alone.  Could 
you  ever  care  for  me  as  I  care  for  you?"  I 
stumbled  on  madly,  dreading  an  answer.  "I 
can't  express  how  I  care  for  you,  any  more 

192 


GWENN 

than  I  could  tell  you  how  the  first  spring  day 
uplifts  me.  I  only  know  it  does.  I  can't  tell 
you  how  the  great  spring  seemed  to  come  into 
my  life  the  first  day  I  saw  you.  I  suppose 
you'll  think  I'm  silly  if  I  tell  you  that  it's  June 
in  my  heart  now — after  knowing  you  a  few 
short  days.  All  life  seems  to  have  budded  in  a 
few  hours.  I  can 't  tell  you  how  I  care  for  you. 
I  can  only  say  that  life  with  you  is  new  life, 
a  life  I've  never  known  before,  and,  like  every 
child  in  life,  I  want  it  to  be  always  springtime. 
I  want  you  with  me  always. ' ' 

The  rattling  cab  jolted  over  the  rutted 
streets.  I  became  suddenly  silent.  She  made 
not  a  sound.  I  hadn't  expected  it  would  be 
like  this.  I  had  not  even  touched  her.  I 
couldn't  even  see  her,  but  I  hadn't  tried.  I 
had  simply  stared  gloomily  ahead  at  the  on- 
coming lights  on  the  street,  at  the  broad  shoul- 
ders of  the  stolid  driver.  I  had  felt  in  one 
terrible  moment  the  full  sense  of  risk — the  risk 
of  the  great  prize  of  life  upon  one  throw.  It 
was  no  time  for  choosing  words,  there  was  no 

193 


IN  THE  DAEK 

need  to  goad  my  resolve  with  the  thrill  of  touch- 
ing her.  Every  nerve  and  sense  was  taut  with 
the  struggle  to  cast  all  my  hopes,  all  my  long- 
ing, in  one  final  throw.  It  must  be  win  or 
lose.  No  compromise  gamble  this !  One  mighty 
stake ! 

There  was  a  sound  as  of  a  sob  from  the  dark 
corner.  I  put  out  a  hand  and  her  hand  closed 
over  mine  convulsively. 

"It's  so  hard,  so  hard,  but  it's  so  absurd — 
if — if — of  course — you  must  mean  it.  If  you 
do,  I  have  the  right.  I  have  the  right.  I  must 
say  this.  I'm  free,  free  as  a  child.  I  have 
always  been  free,  I  have  the  right  to  be — to 
be  cared  for — if  you — if  you — " 

"I  want  you,  oh,  Gwenn,  I  want  you." 

"I'm  glad,  I'm  glad,"  she  said  softly.  "I 
love  you." 

Her  arms,  clinging,  clinging  closer,  yet  held 
me  away.  My  groping  hand  touched  her  cheek, 
a  strand  of  hair  tingled  across  my  wrist  as 
she  turned  her  head  and  the  tear-wet  eyes  came 
near  to  mine.  Then  her  lips,  sweet  beyond  all 

194 


GWENN 

understanding,  met  my  eager  mouth.    We  had 
taken  the  splendid  risk  together — but  the  great 
prize  nestled  close  and  warm  within  my  arms. 
Gwenn!    My  Gwenn! 


195 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   DANCE   HALL 

SUDDENLY  the  car  stopped.  We  had 
reached  the  German  garden. 

"Confound  it!"  I  said.  "There's  no  rea- 
son for  stopping  here.  I  simply  named  this 
place  to  insure  a  long  ride.  Shall  we  go  in 
for  a  few  moments?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  dubiously.  "I  suppose  my 
hair  looks  dreadful.  Men  never  think  about 
such  things." 

"Men!"  I  repeated  jealously. 

"  'Such  things,'  I  said,"  she  answered 
pertly,  "there  are  other  situations  that  result 
in  the  same  mussed-up  effect!  Oh,  I  don't 
mind." 

Nevertheless  I  know  that  both  of  us  felt  hor- 
ribly self-conscious  as  we  walked  into  the 
brightly  lighted  restaurant  and  followed  the 

196 


THE  DANCE  HALL 

head  waiter  to  a  table  which  he  insisted  on 
selecting  in  the  center  of  the  room.  I  was  too 
embarrassed  to  suggest  a  change. 

We  sat  there  and  talked  probably  for  an  hour, 
talked  of  everything  and  nothing.  I  can't  re- 
member a  word  of  what  was  said  but  I  know 
that  I  was  beatifically  pleased  with  all  I  said  and 
heard. 

Then  she  said: 

"Really,  I  must  be  going  home." 

I  remember  that! 

"We  ought  not  to  let  an  evening  slip  by," 
I  protested,  "without  discouraging  Mr.  Cur- 
lew. That  reminds  me.  I  had  clean  forgot. 
Is  our  motor-cyclist  here?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "he's  at  a  table  near  the 
entrance.  I  noticed  him  a  while  ago." 

"Then  we  mustn't  disappoint  him.  We 
should  visit  at  least  one  place  of  questionable 
character  to-night.  This  garden  is  so  proper 
that  it's  like  taking  you  to  a  concert;  it  looks 
as  if  you  were  suspiciously  respectable." 

"It's  getting  late,"  she  demurred.  "I  have 
197 


IN  THE  DAEK 

a  key,  but  if  the  landlady  hears  me  come  in 
after  midnight  she'll  be  more  upset  than  we 
hope  to  make  Mr.  Curlew.  She  is  a  kind  soul 
who  wants  her  house  to  be  irreproachable  and 
really  takes  a  friendly  interest  in  lone  girls." 

"You  dance,  of  course?'*  I  inquired. 

"Yes."    She  looked  doubtful. 

"Then  we  will  go  to  Winkler's — the  dance 
hall,  you  know."  I  enjoyed  the  appearance  of 
masterful  decisiveness.  I  had  been,  and  was, 
so  submissive  in  spirit.  "We  can  dance  a 
little  and  watch  the  crowd." 

"Isn't  that  pretty — T  I've  read  in  the 
papers — " 

"Oh,  it's  an  obvious  example  of  law  breaking 
in  selling  liquor  all  night,  so  the  papers  drag 
it  out  whenever  they  wish  to  attack  the  city 
administration.  But  so  many  'slumming'  par- 
ties go  there  that  it  is  quite  decent  in  externals. 
Its  reason  for  existence,  however,  is  bad  enough ; 
so  that  our  sleuth  will  make  a  big,  black  mark 
on  his  report." 

In  the  end  I  overcame  her  hesitation  to  make 
198 


THE  DANCE  HALL 

the  first  dive  into  the  underworld.  Manlike 
I  didn't  realize  the  extra  repulsion  she  would 
have  in  the  sight  of  stale,  paid  passion  on  a 
night  consecrated  to  the  new-found  bounty  of 
love.  But  even  I  felt  the  shock  of  the  contrast 
the  moment  I  entered  the  dance  hall. 

On  the  way  to  Winkler's  my  thoughts  nat- 
urally turned  again  to  Curlew's  place  in  her 
life  and  I  clumsily  hinted  that  perhaps  in  our 
present  understanding  she  would  feel  able  to 
explain  his  pursuit. 

1  'Not  to-night,  please,"  she  pleaded.  "Will 
you  take  me  on  faith  a  little  longer?  The  se- 
cret isn't  mine  but  perhaps  I  can  get  permis- 
sion to  share  it  with — with  you.  This  much 
I  must  say  again;  I'll  say  it  plainly.  Mr.  Cur- 
lew has  never  had  any  right  to  a  part  of  my 
life,  and  he  has  none  now,  neither  legally  nor 
morally.  I  have  no  present  or  past  ties  bind- 
ing me  to  him.  I'm  sorry  for  him;  I'm  sorry 
for  others  he  might  harm;  I've  tried  to  prevent 
some  things  from  happening,  at  some  cost  to 
myself;  but  the  effort  is  well  worth  while." 

199 


IN  THE  DABK 

"I  can't  fathom  it,"  I  said.  "I  suppose  it 
would  be  easier  not  to  try.  I  supposed  at  first 
that  he  must  be  a  discarded  husband  or 
lover — " 

"Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  never  thought — 
How  could  you  tell  me  that  you —  if  you  im- 
agined— especially  the  first!" 

"You  told  me  to  trust,"  I  said  cheerfully, 
"and  I  did!  So  when  you  put  your  arms 
around  me — this  way,  and  when  I  knew  your 
lips — this  way,  then — well,  it  simply  couldn't 
be." 

"No,  no,"  her  voice  was  deep  and  full,  "it 
couldn't  be.  No  one  else  has  ever  held  me — 
so — before ! ' ' 

The  harsh  lights  in  front  of  Winkler's  ap- 
peared as  the  car  turned  a  corner. 

"Do  they  wear  evening  clothes  here?"  she 
asked.  "It  just  occurred  to  me.  Of  course, 
a  man  wouldn't  think  of  it  till  he  was  inside  the 
place. ' ' 

'  *  They  wear  everything, ' '  I  answered.  ' '  The 
department  store  victim  is  in  the  clothes  in 

200 


THE  DANCE  HALL 

which  she  stands  all  day.  The  flat-dweller  may 
come  in  anything  from  short  skirt  to  low  neck, 
or  both  together!  You  needn't  worry  about 
clothes.  You're  fully  attired  except  that  your 
face  is  naked;  most  of  those  here  wear  two 
or  three  coats  from  chin  to  forehead.  But  then 
they  need  them,  poor  souls;  you  don't.'* 

"I  have  a  blush  with  me,"  she  suggested. 

1 '  I  doubt  if  you  will  use  it  after  the  first  few 
minutes.  There 's  much  less  to  blush  about  here 
than  in  the  average  theatre." 

I  bought  tickets,  submitted  to  the  customary 
cloak-room  hold-up  and  then  piloted  Gwenn 
around  the  slippery  floor,  which  was  sparsely 
covered  with  dancers.  We  found  a  table 
against  the  wall  a  little  removed  from  the  dan- 
cing space  and  I  congratulated  myself  on  the 
happy  chance  of  not  meeting  any  acquaintance 
on  the  way.  I  had  conducted  Edith  and  George 
to  this  place  one  time,  in  satisfaction  of  one 
of  Edith's  whims,  and  at  the  very  door,  had 
run  straight  into  a  large  party  of  business 
friends  in  a  fairly  sad  state.  The  encounter 

201 


IN  THE  DAKK 

was  quite  embarrassing.  They  saw  that  I  was 
with  decent  people  and  audibly  voiced  their  dis- 
approval. 

"I  waited  a  moment  for  the  dance  to  start," 
I  said,  "so  as  to  make  our  entrance  as  incon- 
spicuous as  possible." 

''That  was  nice,"  she  answered.  "I  didn't 
enjoy  stepping  into  the  open  hall.  I  hadn't 
realized  it  would  be  one  big  room  and  every- 
body sitting  around  the  edges  staring  at  you." 

"You  see,  the  purpose  of  the  place  is  in- 
spection and  appraisement, ' '  I  explained.  * '  So, 
strong  lights  and  a  clear  view  are  essential  to 
the  comfort  of  patrons." 

The  dance  ended  and  a  sallow,  unlovely  man 
arose  and  sang,  "Love  Me  and  the  World  is 
Mine."  He  evidently  realized  that  no  one 
could  ever  do  this,  not  even  the  sick  girl  over 
in  Dearborn  Street  who  paid  him  a  weekly  per 
cent,  of  her  earnings,  so  he  put  no  heart  in  his 
plea.  Possibly  he  had  grown  weary  of  the  song 
after  its  thousandth  repetition.  But  he  was 
mindful  of  the  collection  to  follow,  so  he  beat 

202 


THE  DANCE  HALL 

his  flagging  energies  into  a  semblance  of  en- 
thusiasm and  exhibited  in  the  crescendo  climax 
the  power  to  produce  a  volume  of  brutal  noise 
that  had  probably  allured  him  into  a  musical 
career. 

The  applause  was  generous,  considering  that 
it  was  almost  wholly  perfunctory.  The  song- 
ster descended  from  the  orchestra  platform, 
bearing  a  plate  for  contributions,  and  the 
habitues  urged  their  male  companions  to  be 
liberal.  That  is,  some  did.  Those  who  didn't 
believe  the  artist  divided  fairly  with  them 
quietly  deprecated  the  extravagance  and  sug- 
gested more  drinks.  They  were  sure  of  their 
per  cent,  on  drinks.  They  received  little  checks 
to  guarantee  a  fair  accounting. 

"Would  you  care  to  dance?"  I  asked  as  the 
orchestra  started  desultorily  on  a  popular 
waltz. 

"It  seems  so  public,"  she  objected,  "not  like 
private  pleasure,  sort  of  an  exhibition  of  one- 
self." 

*  *  I  suppose  it  is ;  still  no  one  will  really  give 
203 


IN  THE  DAEK 

any  attention  to  us.  People  come  here  to  have 
attentions  forced  on  them." 

"I  think  I  will,"  she  decided.  "I'm  crazy 
to  dance  with  you.  I'm  sure  you  dance  well." 

"Well,  of  course,"  I  began  in  mock  boastful- 
ness,  "at  my  senior  prom,  it  was  said — " 

"I  know  what  they  say  at  college  proms.," 
she  retorted.  "I'll  tell  you  the  truth." 

To  me  the  dance  was  perfect.  We  glided 
away  so  smoothly  that  I  forgot  the  leering 
tables  around  the  floor,  forgot  the  rouged  faces 
we  passed,  forgot  the  stuffy,  overperfumed  at- 
mosphere and  the  mechanical  playing  of  the 
tired  orchestra.  I  simply  was  dancing  for  the 
first  time  with  her.  All  the  good  dances  of 
years  past  had  become  one,  all  transient  fancies 
and  flitting  passions  had  become  one,  all  the 
slender,  lithe  forms  of  forgotten  partners  were 
one  in  the  dear  girl  inside  my  arm !  It  seemed 
that  there  never  had  been  but  one  woman  in 
the  world  for  me.  Others  had  been  granted 
some  tiny  portion  of  her  charm  and  so  had 

204 


THE  DANCE  HALL 

pleased  me  for  an  hour.  But  she  alone  pos- 
sessed all. 

"You  do  dance  well,"  she  said  warmly,  add- 
ing maliciously,  "but  you're  a  bit  out  of  prac- 
tice. Own  up!  You  haven't  been  on  the  floor 
for  a  year!" 

"And  I  thought  I  was  doing  so  well,"  I  com- 
plained. "But  then  you  are  a  perfect  part- 
ner. ' ' 

"No,  I'm  not,"  she  laughed.  "I  gave  you 
a  year  because  I  haven't  danced  for  nearly 
three,  and  I  knew  you'd  notice  it." 

"I  didn't  notice  anything  except  that  it  was 
our  first  dance  and  it  couldn't  have  been  bet- 
ter." 

She  smiled  richly. 

"I  didn't  mean  it,"  she  whispered.  "I  love 
to  tease,  but  I  can't  keep  it  up  this  time.  It 
was  a  heavenly  dance,  think  of  it!  heavenly! 
here!" 

"Great  Scott,"  I  exclaimed.  "There's  Gib- 
ley.  He's  heading  this  way.  Take  no  notice 

205 


IN  THE  DAEK 

of  him.    He 's  probably  half -gone  now.    I  won 't 
introduce  him  on  any  consideration." 

Sure  enough  Gibley  rolled  up  to  the  table. 

"Well,  well,  well,  old  scout,  Winston,"  he 
proclaimed  with  detestable  cordiality.  "In  a 
great  hurry  to  get  away  to-night!  I  remem- 
ber!" He  looked  significantly  at  Gwenn,  who 
gazed  steadily  beyond  him. 

I  shook  hands  flabbily.  Of  course,  in  this 
place  and  semi-intoxicated  he  would  be  duller 
than  usual.  No  hint  would  drive  him  away.  I 
stood  up. 

"I'm  sorry,  old  man,"  I  said,  winking  pro- 
digiously. "I'm  very  busy,  very  much  en- 
gaged just  at  present.  You  understand!" 
More  winks  and  shrugging  of  shoulders. 

"Trust  me,  trust  me,"  he  boomed  out,  "I'm 
no  butter-in.  I  'm  on,  old  scout !  Just  dropped 
by  to  say  howdy-do.  Thought  you  might  want 
to — no — of  course  not — no  poaching  on  another 
fellow's  preserves — not  me,  old  scout — Happy 
days.  Happy  days." 

He  wobbled  away. 

206 


THE  DANCE  HALL 

"Strange  thing,"  I  said  to  Gwenn,  more  to 
make  conversation  than  anything  else,  "that 
man  knows  Mr.  Curlew." 

"Probably  better  than  Mr.  Curlew  knows 
him,"  she  remarked.  "Mr.  Curlew  has  his  bad 
points  but  he's  not  that  sort  of  a  man." 

"Oh,  Gibley's  a  bore,"  I  replied,  a  bit  jeal- 
ously, "but  there's  nothing  very  bad  about 
him — accepting  his  standards  as  those  of  his 
breed." 

"There's  nothing  very  bad  about  him,"  she 
repeated,  "except  that  he  has  the  type  of  mind 
that  would  never  consider  that  you  might  be 
here  with  a  decent  purpose  or  that  your  com- 
panion might  possibly  be  a  decent  woman, 
though  goodness  knows  I  can't  appear  very 
abandoned ! ' ' 

"I'm  not  so  sure,"  I  said  teasingly.  "The 
excitement  has  given  you  an  unusual  amount 
of  color — really  looks  artificial — though,  strange 
to  say,  attractive,  and  you  are  to  my  mind  natu- 
rally a  most  alluring  person." 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  was  actually  embarrassed, 
207 


IN  THE  DARK 

"I  look  just  like  that  woman  in  black  over  there, 
I  suppose,  demure  and  dangerous.  Now,  what 
do  you  suppose  that  woman's  life  is?" 

"Well,  really!"  I  protested. 

" Don't  be  funny,"  she  said  firmly,  "when  I 
am  serious.  I  was  wondering  what  her  own  in- 
timate life  was — outside  of — well,  I'll  say,  busi- 
ness." 

"It  would  be  my  guess,  that  she  hadn't  any 
intimate  life,  in  the  sense  of  which  you  speak, 
or  life  of  her  own.  You  see,  she  can't  get  rid 
of  her  business." 

"I  don't  see  just  what  you  mean." 

"I  mean  that  she  is  always  what  she  is.  She 
can't  get  away  from  it.  She  can  only  live  in 
a  place  where  everyone  knows  what  she  is  and 
anyone  who  came  to  see  her  would  know  the 
same.  The  very  sales-girls  where  she  goes 
shopping  know  her.  She  couldn't  deceive 
them." 

"But,"  protested  Gwenn,  "suppose  she  goes 
away,  out  of  town,  or  even  in  town,  suppose  she 
goes  to  theatres  and  such  places.  How  does 

208 


THE  DANCE  HALL 

she  feel  and  think  when  she  gets  alone  with 
herself?" 

''Again  I  say,  she  doesn't.  She  gives  her- 
self away  wherever  she  goes.  I  don't  believe 
she  is  ever  able  to  have  any  life  outside  of  the 
one  life  that  you  see  represented  here.  When 
she's  absolutely  alone — and  most  of  this  class 
of  people  can't  bear  to  be  alone — but  when  she 
is  alone,  I'll  guarantee  the  last  thing  she  is 
willing  to  think  about  is  herself." 

"Sounds  very  moral,"  said  Gwenn  with  a 
grimace. 

"I  don't  mean  it  that  way.  I  mean  that  this 
life  excludes  all  others.  The  only  moral  in  my 
statement  is  that  if  a  woman  goes  into  this 
life  she  dies — not  in  the  sense  that  her  morality 
dies,  but  she  is  made  an  outcast  of  life  and  as 
far  as  all  real  participation  in  life  goes  she 
might  as  well  be  dead." 

"But  many  women  lead  this  sort  of  life  se- 
cretly." Gwenn  was  very  much  interested  in 
the  little  problem  she  had  raised.  She  kept  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  woman  in  black. 

209 


IN  THE  DARK 

"Don't  think  I  regard  myself  as  the  source 
of  all  wisdom  on  this  subject,"  I  said,  "but 
I  can  answer  that  last  suggestion  also.  The 
wise  and  successful  professional  ladies  live  so- 
called  double  lives  so  as  to  keep  in  the  world. 
But  they  must  be  very  careful.  You  won't  see 
them  here.  They  can't  use  these  crude,  blunt 
processes ;  and  I  may  also  say  that  their  ways 
are  not  half  so  decent  as  most  of  those  in  use 
here.  I  prefer  these  brazen  methods  of  earn- 
ing a  living  to  the  treachery  that  flourishes  on 
the  boulevards." 

"You're  a  man,"  remarked  Gwenn,  rather 
obviously.  "You  haven't  the  faintest  idea 
what 's  going  on  in  that  woman 's  mind.  There, 
see,  the  men  have  left  her  table.  Now,  I  knew 
they  would  from  her  attitude." 

I  laughed. 

"And  I  knew  they  would  because  I  knew  who 
one  of  the  men  was.  He  probably  always  takes 
a  drink  with  that  girl  when  he  is  passing  by 
this  place.  She  ?s  quite  a  character.  I  brought 
an  out-of-town  man  up  here  once.  I  was  try- 

210 


THE  DANCE  HALL 

ing  to  land  a  big  bond.  He  wasn't  vicious  but 
he  wanted  to  'see  the  town.'  I  showed  him  a 
few  worm  holes  in  the  city's  skin  like  this 
place.  We  didn't  follow  them  into  the  rotten 
core.  That  sort  of  thing  did  not  appeal  to 
either  of  us. ' ' 

"You  always  seem  to  have  been  very  circum- 
spect," she  said,  perhaps  a  little  incredulously. 
I  decided  to  let  the  suggestion  pass.  Heaven 
knows  the  average  man  has  enough  to  explain 
to  his  wife  to  spread  thinly  over  a  few  years 
of  confessional !  But — think  of  his  embarrass- 
ment if  he  sat  with  his  lady-love  on  the  very 
night  of  his  avowal,  in  Winkler's  dance  hall, 
a  place  that  would  inevitably  excite  her  live- 
liest interest  and  suspicion  as  to  his  misguided 
past!  It  was  an  occasion  for  thrice  blessing 
all  that  was  clean  and  decent  within  one,  and 
cursing  all  that  was  smirched  with  a  treble 
curse. 

"My  friend  became  quite  interested  in  this 
woman.  Her  name  is — Babette,  I  believe. 
Would  you  like  to  talk  with  her?" 

211 


IN  THE  DAEK 

"Oh,  I  couldn't!  That  is,  I  mean  she 
wouldn't  want  to." 

"I  think  she  would  come,"  I  said.  "It's  a 
matter  of  business  you  know — so  much  per  cent, 
on  a  round  of  drinks.  She  may  not  care  to 
talk — to  a  woman.  But  if  she  did  she  wouldn  't 
be  rude.  I've  seen  these  girls  teach  sight-see- 
ing ladies  valuable  lessons  in  politeness.  Only, 
unfortunately,  the  pupils  were  very  dull." 

"Would  she  really  come?"  asked  Gwenn. 

"Probably,  with  her  yellow-haired  friend. 
Oh,  George !  James ! — yes — you ! ' '  The  waiter 
leaped  to  the  call.  "Will  you  ask  Babette  and 
her  friend  if  they  will  join  us  ? " 

He  argued  with  them  a  moment  and  came 
back  shaking  his  head. 

"They  are  waiting  for  somebody,"  he  ex- 
plained. 

"Yes,  I  know  they  are,"  I  replied  grimly. 
"Tell  Babette  that  I  am  the  man  who  came  out 
with  '  Big  Polly. '  Perhaps  she 's  forgotten  me. ' ' 

"Why  don't  you  go  over  and  ask  her  your- 
self," inquired  Gwenn. 

212 


THE  DANCE  HALL 

"Not  good  form,"  I  said.  "There's  just  as 
much  etiquette  here  as  in  social  circles  where 
virtue  is  more  expensive." 

The  girl  in  spangled  black  and  her  blond 
companion  arose  and  sauntered  over  to  our 
table. 

"Howdy-do,"  said  Babette,  nodding  at  both 
of  us.  No  further  introductions  were  required. 
"I  didn't  notice  at  first  that  you  were  the  man 
who  came  out  with  Mr.  Pollard." 

The  waiter  "took  the  orders,"  our  visitors 
choosing  a  strangely  named  drink  that  was 
probably  only  colored  water. 

"I  had  a  letter  from  'Big  Polly/  a  while 
ago,"  I  remarked.  "He  spoke  of  you." 

"He  was  a  nice  man."  She  spoke  feelingly. 
She  had  liked  him  and  he  had  liked  her  just 
as  any  man  might  be  attracted  by  a  woman  met 
in  more  conventional  surroundings.  Only  in 
this  case  it  had  been  simply  a  matter  of  pass- 
ing a  couple  of  hours  buying  drinks  that  we 
didn't  either  want  or  use,  in  order  to  add 
enough  to  her  per  cent,  account  to  pay  for  her 

213 


IN  THE  DABK 

time.  As  I  recollected  they  had  talked  horses 
and  dogs  exclusively. 

"Kemember  Ouster,  his  saddle  horse?"  I 
asked. 

"A  big  gray  mare,  wasn't  it?"  her  eyes 
showed  real  interest. 

"Yes,  she  slipped  in  the  park  and  broke  a 
leg  recently." 

1 1  Oh,  I  'm  so  sorry. ' '  She  looked  it.  "  I  had 
my  horse  fall  under  me  once  in  Central  Park. 
But  he  just  skinned  his  knees." 

"How  long  is  it  since  you  left  New  York?" 
I  asked. 

"Three  years." 

"Did  you  like  New  York?"  inquired  Gwenn, 
evidently  glad  of  a  chance  to  say  something. 

' '  Oh,  yes, ' '  said  the  girl,  promptly  encrusting 
her  tone  and  manner.  "It's  the  only  place." 

"I  suppose  it's  much  livelier  than  Chicago," 
said  Gwenn,  resolved  to  be  cordial,  even  at  the 
risk  of  rebuff. 

"Livelier,"  repeated  Babette  with  infinite 
scorn.  "Nobody  spends  any  money  here  for 

214 


THE  DANCE  HALL 

the  fun  of  it.    People  go  away  when  they  want 
to  have  a  good  time." 

''That's  true,"  chimed  in  the  blond  friend. 
"All  the  good  spenders  go  to  New  York  when 
they  want  to  make  a  noise.  A  good  time  here 
is  like  getting  'lit'  in  a  church  bazaar." 

Babette  lifted  her  neatly  penciled  brows  at 
her  companion,  evidently  feeling  that  she  was 
not  acting  up  to  "class." 

"I  think  you're  quite  right,"  said  Gwenn 
tactfully.  "I  haven't  gone  around  very  much 
in  Chicago  but  it  always  seemed  to  me  that 
there  was  no  real  gayety  in  the  hotels  or  res- 
taurants, no  spirit  of  play." 

"No,"  said  Babette  suppressing  a  tiny  yawn, 
"it's  a  pretty  dull  place" — then  she  addressed 
me  directly:  "I'm  afraid  we  must  be  going. 
Eemember  me  to  Mr.  Pollard  if  you  see  him." 

' '  I  will, ' '  I  said,  *  *  I  know  he  remembers  you. ' ' 

"Glad  to  have  met  you,"  she  said,  vaguely 
to  the  table-at-large,  and,  with  her  blond  chat- 
tel meekly  following,  she  strolled  away  to  a 
distant  table. 

215 


IN  THE  DAEK 

"She  interested  me  immensely,"  said  Gwenn. 
1 '  Did  you  see  how  she  looked  at  the  other  girl  ? 
Just  sort  of  put  her  in  her  place.  Do  you 
suppose  they  are  friends?" 

"Not  exactly,"  I  said.  "I  think  Babette  is 
a  'madam'  in  a  small  way.  Has  an  apartment 
and  three  or  four  girls  on  her  staff.  This  girl 
is  simply  an  employe,  you  see." 

"Ugh!"  she  answered.  "Let's  be  going.  I 
think  we've  been  bad  enough  for  one  night. 
We've  certainly  seen  enough  unpleasant  things. 
Oh,  of  course,  it's  quite  entertaining.  The- 
atrically speaking,  it's  a  good  show — but — by 
the  way,  I  nearly  forgot,  have  you  seen  our 
motor-cyclist ! ' ' 

"No,  I  haven't,"  I  admitted.  "I  trust  we 
have  not  escaped  him.  A  detached  man  came 
in  shortly  after  us  and  has  been  sitting  at  that 
little  table  near  the  cloak-room.  He's  been 
chatting  with  different  girls,  but  I  have  im- 
agined that  he  had  an  eye  on  us.  Maybe  they 
have  changed  'shadows.'  I'm  sure  the  motor- 
cyclist followed  us  here." 

216 


THE  DANCE  HALL 

After  putting  Gwenn  in  the  taxi-cab  I  made 
a  pretense  of  going  back  to  borrow  a  match  from 
the  ticket-taker  and  so  met  the  new  "shadow" 
in  the  hall.  He  passed  by  me,  but  stood  out- 
side until  I  closed  the  door  of  our  car.  Then 
he  slipped  into  another  car  across  the  street. 
I  had  told  our  driver  simply  to  drive  over  to 
Michigan  Avenue  and  then  south  slowly.  The 
other  car  kept  a  little  way  behind  us.  I  was 
sure  no  car  would  go  so  slowly  except  to  trail 
us. 

"We  are  being  followed,"  I  announced  to 
Gwenn.  "I  don't  like  to  give  away  your  ad- 
dress." 

'  *  Oh,  no, ' '  she  protested.  ' '  He  mustn  't  know 
that." 

"Let  me  figure  it  out,"  I  said,  and  after  some 
hard  thinking,  I  evolved  my  plan. 

Stopping  the  car  at  the  first  drug  store  which 
we  sighted,  I  telephoned  the  Club  for  another 
taxi  to  wait  for  me  at  the  side  entrance  to  a  big 
down-town  hotel.  I  made  very  sure  that  a  car 
was  ready  and  ordered  it  sent  over  immediately. 

217 


IN  THE  DAEK 

Then  I  went  back  to  my  cab,  signed  the  card 
and  gave  our  faithful  driver  his  reward  of 
merit.  I  instructed  him  most  carefully  to  drive 
to  the  main  entrance  of  the  hotel  selected  and 
wait  for  at  least  five  minutes  after  we  had  en- 
tered. Then  he  could  go  on  his  way  rejoicing. 
I  counted  that  the  pursuer  would  not  hurry  his 
steps  when  he  saw  our  cab  evidently  waiting 
for  our  return. 

I  judge  that  in  fact  he  took  his  time,  as  I 
had  calculated,  because  in  due  course  we  scur- 
ried through  the  hotel,  out  the  side  door  and 
into  cab  number  two,  without  apparently  being 
observed. 

I  gave  the  new  driver  an  address  a  block  or 
more  away  from  Gwenn's  house  and  settled 
back  to  enjoy  a  peaceful  ride.  Suddenly  a 
thought  struck  me  and  I  laughed  aloud. 

*  'He'll  watch  that  hotel  a  long  time,"  I  said. 
"There'll  be  a  big  black  mark  in  his  report." 

Then  I  felt  suddenly  ashamed. 

"I  beg  pardon,"  I  continued,  putting  out  an 
apologetic  arm.  "I  didn't  intend  that  result. 

218 


THE  DANCE  HALL 

Perhaps  we  had  better  go  back  and  give  him  the 
trail  again." 

"Don't!"  she  said  shrinking  away  from  the 
embrace.  "Please  don't!" 

"Just  as  you  say,"  I  answered  a  little 
crossly.  "You'll  at  least  admit  that  we  under- 
took to  make  him  believe  anything;  the  worse 
the  better.  I  don't  see  why  even  too  much 
success  should  make  you  feel  differently  toward 
me." 

"It  isn't  that,"  she  explained,  "it  isn't  what 
he'll  think.  But  seeing  all  those  things  to-night 
— makes  me  feel — well,  they  were  new  to  me 
but  they  seemed  old  stories  to  you.  Then  you 
were  so  quick  to  think  of  the  worst  impression 
of  this  last  thing.  It  seems  that  a  man's  life 
and  a  woman's  life  are  very  different.  It 
makes  you  seem  like  a  stranger.  I  don't  know 
what  you  really  think,  what  you've  been,  what 
you  are." 


<  < 


'Do  you  realize  that  I  know  even  less  about 
you?  It's  all  a  matter  of  trust,  Gwenn;  you 
can't  say,  'I  love,'  except  on  faith.  It  takes 

219 


IN  THE  DAEK 

years  to  tell  what  we  love,  whether  it's  what 
the  other  is  or  what  the  other  seemed  to  be. 
You  don't  know,  I  don't  know,  but  if  we  feel 
we  love,  we  must  have  faith  and  go  forward. 
It's  the  great,  wonderful,  brave,  demanding 
risk  of  life — to  say,  'I  love.'  But  when  we  say 
it,  we've  cast  our  lots  together;  we  must  be 
good,  faithful  comrades  and  be  true  to  our 
trust  You're  not  going  to  begin  to  doubt  me 
now,  are  you  ? ' ' 

Two  warm  arms  around  my  neck  and  a  soft, 
cool  cheek  against  mine  were  all  the  answer 
that  I  had  or  wished. 

The  thought  came  to  me  of  the  sallow  man 
who  sang,  "Love  Me  and  the  World  is  Mine!" 
and  then  passed  around  the  contribution  plate ! 
There  was  no  sneer  in  my  mind.  I  felt  terribly 
sorry  for  him;  and  still  more  sorry  for  the 
sick  girl  who  shared  with  him  her  earnings. 

The  lone  pursuit  of  Pleasure's  mockeries — 
the  fading  life — for  some !  The  comrade  quest 
for  happiness — a  widening  world — for  those 
who  have  faith  and  risk  their  all. 

220 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A    DINNER    OP    REBUKE 

T?OLLOWING  the  initial  evening  at  Wink- 
-•-  ler's,  Gwenn  and  I  made  many  scandalous 
expeditions  to  various  "worm  holes"  of  the 
town,  as  she  called  them,  adopting  my  rather 
inept  designation.  Naturally  we  had  a  few  em- 
barrassing experiences.  A  malicious  fate  de- 
creed that  we  should  meet  Gibley  oftener  than 
any  other  of  my  acquaintances.  I  had  lunched 
with  him  the  day  after  our  first  meeting  and 
nothing  but  my  interest  in  Curlew  had  held  me 
at  the  table.  He  was  insufferably  intimate  re- 
garding Winkler's;  told  me  scores  of  his  silly 
adventures  there;  joked  me  most  offensively 
about  my  sudden  drop  in  morals;  took  all  the 
keen  joy  that  a  rounder  gets  out  of  the  ap- 
parent weakening  of  a  self-respect  which  he  has 
always  assumed  must  be  an  hypocrisy. 

221 


IN  THE  DAKK 

In  the  end  Gibley  threw  little  light  on  Cur- 
lew's life.  He  knew  nothing  of  his  past  ex- 
cept that  he  had  been  recently  mixed  up  in 
Central  American  affairs.  I  gathered  that  his 
relationship  with  Gibley  had  arisen  from  a  deal 
relating  to  some  revolutionary  scheme  affecting 
one  of  the  small  republics  down  that  way.  Gib- 
ley's  house  dealt  in  firearms  and  other  neces- 
sities of  war  and  the  secrecy  incident  to  some 
of  their  operations  was  intensified  by  Gibley 's 
fondness  for  posing  as  a  man  of  mystery,  a 
conceit  apparently  characteristic  of  excep- 
tionally dull  and  timorous  persons.  To  hear 
him  talk,  a  stranger  would  have  expected  to 
see  Secret  Service  men  and  international  spies 
watching  Curlew's  every  move.  I  should  have 
discounted  the  entire  melodramatic  element  of 
his  story  had  not  Curlew  appealed  to  me  so 
strongly  as  just  the  kind  of  man  to  get  mixed 
up  in  a  Central  American  teapot  tempest. 

Gibley  said  that  Curlew  had  gone  down  there 
as  an  engineer  for  a  government  road.  That 
he  would  thereby  become  involved  in  govern- 

222 


A  DINNER  OF  EEBUKE 

merit  politics  was  obvious,  and,  since  numerous 
undertakings  of  that  sort  are  financed  from  the 
United  States  the  chances  were  strong  that  he 
was  actively  engaged  in  trying  to  put  into 
power  the  government  faction  which  offered 
the  best  inducements  to  his  capitalists.  If  his 
backers  happened  to  be  opposed  by  the  ruling 
financiers  who  pulled  the  strings  at  Washing- 
ton, he  was  probably  actively  hostile  to  our 
State  Department  and  necessarily  working  in 
secret. 

So  much  grain  I  separated  from  the  unpalat- 
able chaff  with  which  Gibley  filled  the  lunch 
hour.  But  I  resolved  that  the  reward  had  been 
too  small  for  the  patient  effort  of  enduring  Gib- 
ley.  So  I  shunned  him  thereafter  so  far  as 
I  could  at  the  Club — only  to  meet  his  knowing 
grin  somewhere  in  the  course  of  almost  every 
"worm  hole"  expedition! 

Others  beside  Gibley  met  me,  however,  and 
the  Paul  Reveres  of  propriety  promptly  spread 
the  news  through  every  "Middlesex  village  and 
farm."  The  result  was  that  the  smoldering 

223 


IN  THE  DAEK 

' '  family  interest ' '  broke  into  a  fierce  flame.    As 
Dora  put  it: — 

"We  could  stand  it  if  it  were  merely  a  late 
sowing  of  wild  oats"  (a  conventional  and  hence 
quite  respectable  custom).  "It's  this  infatua- 
tion for  a  woman  who  apparently  has  no  sense 
of  decency,  that  alarms  Edith  and  me. ' ' 

"Edith!"  I  snorted.  "How  about  Edith's 
sense  of  decency?  People  in  whited  sepulchres 
shouldn't  start  throwing  mud." 

"What  a  perfectly  ridiculous  statement," 
said  Dora.  "Of  course  I  don't  approve  of 
Edith  but,  at  least,  her  affair  is  quite  respect- 
able." 

"  Oh,  yes, "  I  responded.  « '  If  dear  Edith  de- 
cides to  leave  her  husband  and  marry  another 
woman's,  I  suppose  the  whole  thing  will  be  ar- 
ranged with  all  the  conventional  rites  of  ab- 
solution: a  double  divorce  through  appropriate 
perjury,  the  correct  interval  of  broken-hearted 
retirement  and  then  cracked  wedding  bells  to 
peal  out  the  new  soul  union." 

"Precisely,"  said  Dora. 
224 


A  DINNER  OF  REBUKE 

"All  I  can  say,"  I  concluded  heatedly,  "is 
that,  though  I  refuse  to  give  any  further  con- 
fidence to  an  unappreciative  family,  my  pres- 
ent affair  is  so  pure  and  wholesome  compared 
with  Edith's  silly  neurotics  that  I  consider  com- 
parison an  insult,  and  rebuke  a  very  funny 
joke. ' ' 

So  they  decided  to  have  a  dinner  and  bring 
me  to  my  senses.  They  followed  the  world- 
old  misapprehension  that  the  well-fed  man  is 
a  reasonable  being  and  decided  to  admonish  me 
diplomatically.  Of  course,  this  wasn't  ex- 
plained to  me  but  when  I  heard  that  Edith  and 
George  were  coming  to  dinner  I  knew  what  was 
up.  Dora  detests  dinners  "just  for  the  fam- 
ily, ' '  so  that  I  recognized  this  arrangement  as  a 
noble  sacrifice  in  the  great  cause  of  my  regen- 
eration. Then  the  night  before  the  event  Dora 
casually  stated: — 

"Dr.  Grace  has  telephoned  that  he  can  come 
to-morrow.  I'm  so  glad;  that  makes  an  even 
six.  Anyhow,  he's  a  nice,  friendly  soul." 

"You  little  hypocrite!"  I  shouted.  "Or- 
225 


IN  THE  DARK 

dinarily  you  can 't  stand  Dr.  Grace.  What  was 
that  last  thing  you  said  about  him:  'An  unc- 
tuous old  bore ! '  That  was  it.  Now  you  want 
him  to  come  in  to  help  reduce  me  to  silence 
with  a  wave  of  his  white  whiskers.  All  right,  old 
lady,  bring  on  your  brigade  of  shallow  moral- 
ists. I  won't  retreat.  I  know  your  guns  are 
loaded  with  blanks.  Poor  old  Dr.  Grace!  It's 
a  shame  to  pull  him  into  the  fight.  He  never 
could  aim  straight  and  now  he 's  almost  lost  his 
eyesight!" 

* '  How  you  talk ! ' '  exclaimed  Dora.  '  *  He  only 
wears  glasses  for  reading.  He  has  wonderful 
sight  for  a  man  nearly  seventy." 

"Tush!  tush!"  I  answered.  "I  was  refer- 
ring to  his  moral  eyesight.  His  ethical  guides 
are  a  few  shop-worn  phrases  of  which  he  doesn  't 
know  the  meaning.  As  they  don't  apply  to 
modern  conditions  he's  practically  morally 
blind.  Lead  him  in  for  slaughter !  He 's  your 
victim,  not  mine ! ' ' 

In  due  course  the  family  gathered  solemnly 
around  the  dining  table.  I  had  had  a  hard  day 

226 


A  DINNER  OF  REBUKE 

of  business  and  temporarily  lost  my  sense  of 
humor,  so  that  George  wore  proudly  the  only 
smile  in  the  company.  Dora  and  Edith  bore 
looks  of  patient  suffering  and  grimaced  pa- 
thetically whenever  I  spoke.  I  gathered  that 
the  idea  was  to  let  me  know  that  they  would 
love  me  despite  everything,  but  that  love  was 
at  times  a  painful  duty.  Dr.  Grace  typified  be- 
nignant intolerance  itself.  I  felt  that  so  Jove 
might  have  sat,  reproving  his  lovelorn  sons 
and  majestically  overlooking  his  own  many  in- 
discretions. 

Conversations  were  languid  for  a  long  time. 
Then  I  met  George 's  twinkling  eyes  and  amuse- 
ment dissipated  my  resentment.  I  resolved 
to  have  a  good  time.  Dora  had  led  off  a  veiled 
attack  on  the  loose  morals  of  our  time  and  was 
being  fitly  supported  by  profundities  from  Dr. 
Grace  on  the  "old  ways  being  the  best." 

"Yes,"  I  broke  in  blithely,  "I  remember 
when  you  used  to  drive  up  to  father's  house  in 
a  covered  phaeton  and  tell  us  youngsters  about 
the  wisdom  of  plain  living  and  high  thinking. 

227 


IN  THE  DAEK 

You  always  said  comfort  had  a  most  corrupting 
influence.  I  suppose  the  modern  motor-car  is 
responsible  for  many  evils." 

Dr.  Grace  had  two  cars.  My  counter-attack 
could  hardly  be  called  subtle! 

"Ah!  different  times,  different  manners,"  he 
replied  grandly,  fixing  a  stern  eye  upon  me. 
* '  Manners  change,  not  morals ! ' ' 

"But  don't  you  think,"  I  insisted,  "that  the 
automobile  has  lowered  the  ethical  standards  of 
the  medical  profession,  for  example,  has  in- 
creased the  scramble  for  business?  In  your 
time  even  a  good  horse  had  his  limits.  You 
couldn't  pay  but  a  certain  number  of  calls  a 
day.  Now  you  can  handle  at  least  three  times 
the  business." 

"What  we  were  speaking  about,"  said  the 
doctor,  addressing  himself  to  the  friendly 
ladies,  "was  the  looseness  of  morals  partic- 
ularly in  sex  matters.  I  think  it  has  a  close 
connection  with  the  modern  propaganda  of 
women's  rights — all  rights  and  no  obligations, 
I  call  it." 

228 


A  DINNER  OF  REBUKE 

"Of  course,  that  explains  it,"  I  agreed  in- 
sincerely. "As  soon  as  you  let  a  woman  think, 
she 's  going  to  wonder  why  the  men  should  have 
all  the  fun!" 

"Gilbert!"  rebuked  two  sisterly  voices. 

"If  you  mean,"  said  the  white  whiskers, 
severely,  "that  as  long  as  men  are  weak  and 
sinful  the  tolerance  which  permits  of  their  re- 
demption should  be  extended  to  license  equal 
depravity  in  the  sex  to  which  we  turn  for  our 
higher  ideals,  I  cannot  but  express  deepest  sor- 
row at  your  attitude." 

The  family  murmured  its  approval. 

"Is  there  any  reason  why  a  man  shouldn't 
get  a  few  ideals  from  himself  and  extend  a 
little  charity  to  his  equally  weak  sister?"  I  de- 
manded. 

"I  will  give  you  a  case  in  point,"  said  the 
doctor,  adopting  his  usual  tactics  of  blandly 
discussing  and  answering  only  what  he  chose. 
"I  have  heard  of  a  young  man  who  has  fre- 
quented places  of  most  questionable  character 
with  a  woman  whom  he  has  professed  to  love. 

229 


IN  THE  DAEK 

Now,  love  is  a  sacred  thing,  a  very  sacred  thing. 
It  should  uplift,  not  degrade — " 

"Your  idea,"  I  interrupted,  unable  to  listen 
to  his  generalities,  "is  that  such  a  man  and 
woman  couldn't  visit  such  places  without  deg- 
radation— no  matter  for  what  purpose?" 

"My  idea  is,"  he  felt  himself  to  be  most  im- 
pressive, because  the  table  was  very  silent; 
"my  idea  is,  that,  the  woman  thereby  shows 
herself  lacking  in  certain  essential  character- 
istics of  womanliness  which  should  warn  the 
young  man  that  his  idol  is  clay.  The  man  him- 
self must  feel  that  he  is  not  living  up  to  that 
which  is  the  best  within  him,  to  take  pleasure 
in  such  actions." 

"Since  this  is  a  very  intimate  gathering," 
I  suggested,  "suppose  we  stop  beating  about 
the  bush.  You  are  speaking  about  me  and 
about  the  woman  whom,  to  speak  plainly,  I  in- 
tend to  marry.  Do  you  all  hear  that!" 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said  Dr.  Grace, 
with  much  self-pity.  "You  must  pardon  my 
plain-speaking,  Gilbert,  but  I  have  known  all 

230 


A  DINNER  OF  REBUKE 

of  you  since  you  were  little  children.  I  have 
an  interest  in  you.  I  cannot  remain  silent 
when  one  of  you  seems  to  me  to  be  on  the  verge 
of  so  great  a  mistake." 

11  What's  the  mistake?"  I  asked.  "Is  it 
wrong  that  I  should  love  a  woman  who  trusts 
herself  to  me?  I'll  tell  you  now,  we  don't  go 
to  these  places  for  idle  curiosity.  We  have  a 
perfectly  good  reason." 

"I'm  afraid  that  what  is  a  good  reason  in 
your  sight,  might  not  seem  good  to  everyone." 
The  doctor  was  gentle  but  firm. 

"That's  the  trouble,"  put  in  George,  piling 
rosined  fuel  on  the  fire,  with  a  wicked  joy. 
"You  don't  see  what  you  are  getting  into,  Gil- 
bert. You're  blinded  by  infatuation  until  you 
can't  tell  a  good  reason  from  a  bad  one.  Bet- 
ter tell  uncle  all  about  it!" 

"The  final  fact,"  announced  our  patriarch, 
"is  that  no  good,  honorable  woman,  nor  any 
virtuous,  clear-visioned  man  has  any  business 
in  any  such  place.  I  cannot  but  believe,  Gil- 
bert, from  all  I  have  seen  and  heard  that  you 

231 


IN  THE  DARK 

are  making  a  sad  mistake.  I  hope  you  do  not 
contemplate  any  immediate,  public  acknowledg- 
ment of  your  entanglement." 

"By  George,"  I  cried,  irritated  beyond  con- 
trol. "If  she  would  permit  me  I'd  tell  the 
whole  world  to-morrow.  Now  let  me  say  a 
word  to  you:  If  you  believe  what  you  'have 
seen  and  heard'  about  this  scandal,  regardless 
of  my  word,  what  right  have  you  to  talk  to 
me?  If  I  believed  what  I'd  seen  and  heard 
about — well,  say,  the  famous  nurse  at  the  Gen- 
eral Hospital,  what  kind  of  counselor  would  you 
appear?" 

"Oh,  Gilbert,"  rose  the  family  chorus.  My 
reference  was  to  one  of  several  gossipy  stories 
of  the  youth  of  the  doctor  that  had  survived 
many  years  of  denial  and  always  carried  with 
them  a  strong  air  of  probability. 

"A  personal  attack  is  never  argument — " 
began  my  mentor. 

"In  Heaven's  name,"  I  cried.  "Am  I  to  sit 
here  silent  while  you  slander  the  woman  I  love 
and  not  call  your  attention  to  the  fact  that 

232 


A  DINNER  OF  EEBUKE 

your  own  past  life  should  teach  you  to  be  chary 
of  criticising  others'?  You  draw  conclusions 
from  suspicious  circumstances  with  which  I  in- 
volve myself  in  the  name  of  love.  Yet  you  ex- 
pect and  have  received  in  this  house  entire  faith 
in  the  decency  of  your  entanglement  with  a 
woman  whom  you  never  publicly  professed  to 
care  for  at  all." 

1  'I  do  not  think  that  one  unfortunate  ex- 
perience in  the  many  years  of  my  life  disquali- 
fies me  from  ever  again  advocating  the 
standards  of  good  conduct."  He  was  pain- 
fully deliberate. 

1  'No,  one  experience  doesn't,"  I  continued 
excitedly,  "nor  does  the  fact  that  you  have 
been  drawn  into  no  less  than  five  newspaper 
scandals,  within  my  recollection,  disqualify  you. 
But  you  know  and  I  know  that  no  man  lives, 
even  to  middle  age,  without  having  many  things 
in  his  life  which  are  not  easily  explained  as 
compatible  with  the  best  ideals.  And  every 
man  also  knows  that  he  has  made  many  mis- 
takes. Some  he  is  sorry  for  and  some,  if  he 

233 


IN  THE  DAEK 

is  honest,  make  him  proud.  I  've  learned  within 
a  few  weeks  that  a  man  may  make  some  mis- 
takes in  life  that  he  should  be  proud  to  wear 
upon  his  forehead  like  the  scars  of  a  fight  for 
noble  things.  That's  what  those  mistakes  are. 
The  man  who  is  ashamed  of  those  scars 
is  ashamed  of  the  best  of  his  life.  He  never 
realizes  he  has  'trod  the  sunlit  heights.' 

1  'I  want  to  tell  you,  Dr.  Grace,  if  somewhere 
in  those  scandals  which  you  deny  with  such 
disdain  there  isn't  a  mistake  or  two  of  that 
kind,  I'm  sorry  for  you!  You  may  not  like  to 
show  the  scars  but  I  hope  you  are  proud  of 
them!" 

"I  have  no  scars  of  scandal,"  said  the  doctor 
harshly.  '  *  Calumny  may  have  attacked  me  but 
it  has  never  left  a  mark." 

"If  you  deny  it,"  I  said,  half -ironically,  "it 
must  be  so.  Just  as  I  said,  I  am  sorry  for 
you.  But,  you  can't  affect  me  with  your  ad- 
vice if  you  don't  know  what  a  fine  thing  it  is 
to  make  a  big  mistake.  Of  course,  you've  made 
mistakes  and  if  you  haven't  made  big  ones  it's 

234 


A  DINNER  OF  REBUKE 

because  you  never  took  a  big  chance.  Think 
of  that!  You  must  have  led  a  dull  life." 

"I  have  found  life  very  satisfactory,"  said 
the  older  man,  distinctly  nettled  at  being  put 
in  an  attitude  of  defense.  "Much  more  satis- 
factory than  you  will  find  the  life  towards 
which  your  present  course  is  leading  you.'* 

"Satisfactory!"  I  retorted.  "Oh,  doubt- 
less! I  don't  want  a  satisfactory  life.  You 
mean  satisfactory  to  the  common  judgment.  I 
might  have  wanted  that  kind  a  month  ago.  I 
didn't  have  anything  else  to  live  for  then.  But 
since  that  time  I've  fallen  in  love." 

I  heard  at  least  two  grunts,  probably  three. 

"Yes,  I've  fallen  in  love.  I  want  a  big  life, 
a  full  life,  a  life  of  hazard  and  achievement. 
You  think  I've  made  a  mistake.  If  I  have  its 
the  grandest  thing  I've  ever  done.  I'm  going 
to  go  on  making  mistakes  until  I  guess  right ! 

"Oh,  don't  worry,  Dora,"  I  concluded. 
"I'm  just  talking.  This  first  mistake  suits  me 
very  well.  I  don't  anticipate  a  long  horrify- 
ing list  of  additional  blunders.  But  by  the 

235 


IN  THE  DAEK 

way,  Edith,  I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  when  this 
mistake  becomes  a  marriage  it's  going  to  be  a 
real  marriage.  The  time  of  hesitation  being 
past,  my  wife  and  I  are  going  to  be  good  sports 
in  life  and  play  the  game  according  to  the 
rules.  That's  fair  play  with  each  other  and 
with  the  rest  of  the  world.  The  troubles  in 
the  marriage  game  aren't  caused  by  dogmas 
or  duties ;  they  come  from  broken  rules. 

"That's  my  answer  to  this  family  conference. 
I'm  doing  what  no  one  else  here  is  doing,  ex- 
cept possibly  George;  and  I'm  not  sure  of  him. 
I'm  going  to  play  the  game  fair. — Can  we  ad- 
journ for  coffee  now  and  pass  the  pipe  of 
peace!" 

They  all  agreed  afterward  that  I  had  talked 
a  great  deal  and  seemed  very  fond  of  the  sound 
of  my  own  voice.  And  all  except  George  said 
I  was  very  obstinate  and  should  be  left  to  my 
fate.  George  said  I  was  pig-headed  but  prob- 
ably on  the  right  track. 

The  next  evening  Gwenn  and  I  revisited 
Winkler's  as  an  "anniversary"  celebration,  it 

236 


A  DINNER  OF  EEBUKE 

being  three  weeks  from  the  night  of  my  avowal ! 
And  so  it  happened  that  we  finished  our  absurd 
pilgrimage  in  the  place  where  it  began.  For 
there  and  on  that  night  the  long  pursuit  of 
Gwenn  was  ended. 


237 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MELODRAMA   AT    WINKLER 's 

night  here  is  like  a  thousand  others, 
isn't  it,3"  said  Gwenn,  as  we  made  our 
way  to  a  table.  "There's  your  friend,  Ba- 
bette,  and  her  yellow  satellite." 

"It  seems  so,"  I  responded,  exhibiting  an 
utter  lack  of  prophetic  insight.  "I  suppose 
now  and  then  there's  a  drunken  row  and  it 
must  be  pretty  wild  and  nasty  on  New  Year's 
Eve.  But  most  of  the  time  it's  not  a  very 
lively  show.  There's  our  old  friend  Gibley  in 
the  far  corner." 

"I  noticed  him,"  she  said  disdainfully. 
"What  a  sordid  thing  his  daily  life  must  be. 
I  certainly  hope  for  some  girl's  sake  that  he 
never  marries." 

"He  probably  will.  Even  that  sort  of  a  man 
gets  bored  with  this  in  time  and  manages  to 

238 


MELODRAMA  AT  WINKLER'S 

delude  some  immature  girl  with  the  idea  that 
he  is  a  'man  of  the  world,'  because  of  his  fa- 
miliarity with  the  under  side  of  life." 

The  unhappy  songster  arose  and  noisily 
sobbed  out  a  ballad  about  "days  gone  by"  and 
* '  the  big,  red,  harvest  moon. "  A  party  of  very 
young  "college  boys,"  alumni  of  down-town 
haberdasheries,  applauded  violently.  The  vo- 
calist graciously  repeated  the  pathetic  refrain. 

"I  shouldn't  think  the  women  here  would 
care  for  such  songs,"  suggested  Gwenn.  "You 
say  a  good  share  of  them  come  from  small 
towns.  I  came  from  a  small  town  and  if  I  had 
dropped  into  this  life,  I  wouldn't  like  to  hear 
about  'the  harvest  moon.' 

"Yet  it  seems  to  make  a  hit  with  them,"  I 
said  pointing  around.  "Even  Babette's  blond 
is  applauding  with  special  emphasis. ' ' 

"Have  you  noticed  how  restless  our  'shadow' 
has  been  to-night?"  asked  Gwenn.  "He  has 
gone  out  and  come  back  several  times." 

"I  don't  see  him  now,"  I  said  glancing  over 
my  shoulder. 

239 


IN  THE  DAEK 

"No,"  she  answered,  "he  has  just  stepped 
out  again.  Oh,  Gilbert !  Gilbert ! ' '  she  half  rose 
in  terror,  clutching  my  arm.  I  twisted  round 
in  my  chair.  Curlew  was  standing  in  the  door- 
way! In  a  moment  he  had  sighted  his  quarry 
and  was  striding  straight  to  us  across  the  slip- 
pery floor,  heedless  alike  of  the  scattered  dan- 
cers and  the  uncertain  footing.  His  face  was 
set  in  a  hard  scowl,  his  deep  eyes  almost  invis- 
ible and  his  strong  fingers  contorted  viciously 
as  though  the  stiffly  swung  arms  struggled  for 
release  from  the  broad  shoulders. 

His  first  word  was  to  me: — 

"You  didn't  keep  away,  did  you?  I'll  dis- 
cuss that  with  you  later!" 

He  faced  Gwenn. 

"So  you  thought  this  life  better  than  what  I 
offered  you!" 

She  looked  up  at  him,  not  with  any  sign  of 
fear  but  rather  with  a  puzzled  air.  Her  lips 
moved  but  without  sound. 

"Mr.  Curlew,"  I  said,  rising,  "if  Miss — if 
you  feel  that  your  company  is  wanted  here,  I 

240 


MELODRAMA  AT  WINKLEE'S 

suggest  that  you  sit  down.  If  not,  you  had 
better  leave.  This  is  hardly  the  place  for  a 
scene. ' ' 

He  didn't  even  look  at  me. 

'  *  Do  you  remember  what  you  said  that  night 
on  the  river?" 

"The  river?"  she  said,  vaguely. 

"My  God!    Don't  you  even  remember?" 

"Curlew!"  I  said  brusquely.  "I  can't  per- 
mit you — " 

I  put  a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  He  whirled 
around  and  glared  at  me. 

"Wait  a  minute!  Then  I'll  be  ready  for 
you. ' ' 

"Oh,  yes,  I  remember,"  said  Gwenn,  "in  the 
canoe ! ' ' 

"The  canoe,"  he  snarled.  "Are  you  trying 
to  play  with  me?  There's  something  strange 
about  you.  The  ring!" 

He  reached  across  the  table  and  seized  her 
fingers.  I  grabbed  at  his  left  wrist,  but  he  had 
pulled  off  the  little  ruby  ring  with  his  right 
hand  before  I  could  act.  I  expected  a  furious 

241 


IN  THE  DARK 

struggle.  Instead  he  turned  a  face  of  amaze- 
ment upon  me  and  said: 

"It  came  off  easily!  It  didn't  stick  at  the 
joint!" 

He  held  the  ring  in  front  of  him  staring 
confusedly  at  Gwenn.  She  took  the  ring  from 
his  hand  and  slipped  it  on  again. 

Of  course,  the  entire  room  was  watching  our 
party.  A  burly  man  who  had  just  entered  the 
hall  headed  for  us,  probably  the  "bouncer," 
hastily  summoned  to  quell  the  disturbance. 

"You've  made  enough  trouble,"  I  said  in 
a  low  voice  to  Curlew.  "You'd  better  get 
out." 

I  jerked  him  away  from  the  table,  but  his 
muscles  recoiled  like  heavy  springs.  His  face 
flushed  up  angrily. 

"You — "  he  began  like  a  growling  bulldog. 
His  hand  slipped  toward  my  throat.  It  was 
no  time  for  nice  calculations.  I  dropped  his 
wrist  and  struck  out  at  him  with  desperate 
strength.  He  had  the  advantage  of  me  in  every 
way  physically.  But  in  my  rage  at  his  in- 

242 


MELODRAMA  AT  WINKLER'S 

solent  treatment  of  Gwenn  I  would  have  taken 
any  amount  of  punishment  gladly  to  have  done 
him  harm.  My  blow  caught  him  full  in  the 
face  and  he  stumbled  back  into  the  arms  of  the 
oncoming  " bouncer.'*  I  sprang  forward,  but 
the  "bouncer"  wrapped  both  arms  around 
Curlew  and  swung  him  aside. 

"Just  a  minute,"  he  said  quietly.  "This 
man  is  mine." 

To  my  surprise  he  held  the  strong  engineer 
helpless. 

"Are  you  going  to  put  up  a  scrap?"  said 
the  "bouncer"  to  his  victim,  "or  will  you  come 
peaceably  with  me?  Uncle  Sam  wants  to  see 
you!  There  are  a  couple  more  of  his  boys  in 
this  room.  Must  we  be  unkind  to  you?" 

"I'll  go  quietly,"  said  Curlew,  suddenly  be- 
coming very  calm. 

The  manager  of  the  hall,  a  coarse,  fat  indi- 
vidual, waddled  up,  followed  by  a  couple  of 
mean-looking  waiters. 

"Now,  what's  this  row?"  he  demanded  tru- 
culently. 

243 


IN  THE  DAEK 

The  supposed  " bouncer"  opened  his  coat 
slightly,  giving  a  glimpse  of  a  metal  badge. 

"Would  you  like  to  go  up  to  the  marshal's 
office  with  me,  too?"  he  asked  pleasantly.  "I 
think  they  have  a  few  ' white  slave'  cases  you'd 
like  to  see." 

"Excuse  me!"  hurriedly  protested  the  red- 
faced  one.  "Nothing  doing,  boys."  The  wait- 
ers backed  off. 

"What  does  it  all  mean?"  I  whispered  to 
Gwenn. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered  blindly.  "It 
can't  be  the  old  trouble.  I'm  sure  it  isn't  any- 
thing wicked.  He  isn't  a  bad  man.  Find  out 
where  they  are  taking  him,  Gilbert.  Perhaps 
we  ought  to  do  something  for  him ! ' ' 

The  idea  struck  me  humorously,  but  I  asked 
the  government  inspector. 

"He'll  be  at  the  Federal  building — mar- 
shal's office — or  in  the  County  Jail,  for  a  few 
days  at  least,"  he  answered.  "Who  are  you, 
by  the  way?" 

I  took  out  a  business  card. 
244 


MELODRAMA  AT  WINKLEE'S 

" Surety  bonds,"  he  read.  ''Well,  you're 
Johnny-on-the-spot,  because  it'll  take  a  big 
bond  to  get  him  out!  Who's  the  lady?  She's 
not  one  of  these!"  He  was  a  better  observer 
than  Gibley,  whom  I  saw  across  the  hall,  slip- 
ping toward  the  door. 

"No,"  I  said,  "but  she's  a  friend  of  mine. 
I'll  vouch  for  her.  She  isn't  mixed  up  with 
him."  That  sounded  almost  like  a  lie. 

He   grinned   sardonically. 

"No,  I  observed  that  they  were  utter  stran- 
gers," he  remarked.  Then  he  added  comfort- 
ingly. "I'm  sure  we  don't  need  her  on  the 
main  job,  but  I  want  to  know  where  to  reach 
her  if  anything  comes  up  about  to-night. 
What's  her  address?" 

He  took  out  his  notebook. 

"I  don't  care  to  have  that  man  know,"  I 
said  pointing  to  Curlew,  who  was  speaking  to 
a  waiter. 

"He's  not  exactly  a  friend  of  mine,"  smiled 
the  inspector.  "I  don't  tell  him  all  my  se- 
crets." 

245 


IN  THE  DAEK 

"Have  a  drink!"  called  out  Curlew. 

"No,  thanks,"  said  his  captor,  as  he  noted 
down  Gwenn's  address.  "I  don't  like  to  be 
arbitrary,  but,  none  for  you  either.  You're 
under  arrest." 

"All  right,"  said  Curlew,  with  an  unpleasant 
grin.  "May  I  tip  the  waiter?" 

"If  it  gives  you  any  pleasure,"  said  the 
other.  "Now  we  must  be  moving.  Good- 
night, Mr.  Winston." 

He  and  Curlew  strolled  toward  the  exit  like 
a  pair  of  friends  but  I  noticed  that  two  men 
sitting  near  the  door  rose  at  the  same  time  and 
followed  them  out.  Evidently  they  had  felt 
fairly  sure  that  Curlew  would  make  no  resist- 
ance but  had  taken  no  chances. 

The  moment  the  star  of  our  little  melodrama 
had  left  we  realized  how  conspicuous  we  were. 
The  entire  hall  was  talking  about  us  and  prob- 
ably a  hundred  different  speculations  were  in 
currency.  I  helped  Gwenn  into  her  long  cloak, 
retrieved  my  coat  from  the  check-room  and  we 
hurried  out  into  the  crisp  night. 

246 


MELODRAMA  AT  WINKLER'S 

"I  don't  believe  we  will  be  shadowed  any 
longer,"  I  suggested.  "Let's  walk  to  your 
house." 

The  bracing  chill  of  oncoming  winter  seemed 
to  clear  my  puzzled  brain  and  stray  sentences 
fraught  with  interest  recurred  to  me.  Perhaps 
Curlew  had  been  mistaken. 

"I  don't  believe  you're  the  girl  he  thought 
you  were,"  I  hazarded. 

"I'm  not,"  she  said  with  sudden  frankness. 
'  *  Didn 't  you  guess  that  before  ? ' ' 

"I'm  afraid  I  didn't.  I'm  pretty  stupid, 
you  see." 

"I  didn't  want  you  to  guess  for  fear,  in 
your  anxiety  about  me,  you  might  hint  it  to 
him." 

"Is  the  whole  story  coming  out  now?"  I 
asked,  hopefully. 

"Maybe,"  she  said.  "I  don't  understand 
this  arrest  though.  That  was  a  United  States 
officer,  wasn't  it!" 

"A  Secret  Service  man,  I  gathered." 

"Then  it  can't  be  for  the  old  trouble,  I  sup- 
247 


IN  THE  DARK 

pose.  I  always  understood  that  was  a  local 
matter — just  for  our  home  state,  I  mean." 

"What  was  the  old  trouble?" 

"I'm  going  tc  tell  you  the  whole  story  to- 
morrow, or  the  next  day,"  she  said.  "Let  me 
tell  it  all  at  once!  Meanwhile,  will  you  do 
something  for  me?" 

"Anything  you  ask,"  I  announced,  with  a 
shade  of  double  meaning.  "You  know  I  have 
faith." 

"He  ought  to  have  a  lawyer,  a  good  one." 

"Probably  he  has  one,"  I  suggested,  "con- 
sidering the  hazardous  business  he's  evidently 
in." 

"No,"  she  said.  "He  never  prepares  be- 
forehand for  trouble.  He'll  have  no  way  in 
jail  of  making  sure  that  he  gets  a  good  man. 
Couldn't  you  suggest  to  him  that  you  would 
recommend  one?" 

"He'd  probably  expect  me  to  send  him  the 
biggest  fool  I  knew  as  a  suitable  revenge. 
Anyhow,  I  feel  certain  that  he  knows  people 
here  who  would  help  him.  He  must  have  busi- 

248 


MELODRAMA  AT  WINKLER'S 

ness  friends  like  Gibley.  However,  I'll  go 
over  and  see  him  to-morrow  and  ask  him,  if  it 
will  please  you.  I'll  suggest  brother-in-law 
Carfax.  I  suspect  that  Curlew  is  mixed  up  in 
a  diplomatic  row.  Carfax  would  be  just  the 
man.  He's  had  foreign  governments  for 
clients  at  times  and  knows  the  ropes." 

" That's  fine  of  you,"  said  Gwenn  enthusi- 
astically. "For  that  what  shall  I  do?" 

"Just  remember  it  when  you  say  good-night 
to  me  in  a  few  minutes,"  I  suggested,  jokingly, 
"and  don't  put  the  key  in  the  door  quite  so 
soon  as  last  time." 

She  made  no  answer,  but  she  remembered; 
for  when  we  reached  the  narrow  dark  vestibule, 
she  handed  me  the  key!  Quite  a  long  while 
afterward  she  took  it  from  me  gently  and 
opened  the  door  herself.  I  promptly  apolo- 
gized for  having  failed  to  note  how  chilly  it 
was.  She  must  be  half  frozen!  No,  she  said, 
with  a  soft  smile,  that  she  had  been  very 
warmly  wrapped  up,  but  that  it  was  a  trifle 
late.  I  didn't  regard  that  as  important  but, 

249 


IN  THE  DARK 

after  condensing  my  ideas  on  the  subject  into 
a  very  brief  half-hour,  decided  to  depart  as  a 
convincing  proof  of  the  domination  of  mind 
over  matter  in  a  strong  man!  I  bade  her  an 
affectionate  bat  firm  farewell,  incidentally 
making  a  luncheon  engagement  for  the  follow- 
ing noon — that  is,  for  noon  of  the  same  day, 
and  turned  my  face  homewards.  It  was  such 
a  gorgeous  night,  I  had  so  much  to  think  about, 
and  "owl"  cars  seemed  so  repulsive,  that  I 
decided  to  walk  the  four  or  five  miles,  a  trifling 
task  for  my  eager  spirit!  As  a  result  I 
crawled  into  my  bed  at  about  half-past  four 
weary  and  content. 


250 


CHAPTER  XV 

DISGRACING   THE   FAMILY 

A  T  half -past  seven  I  awoke  suddenly  to  find 
-£^-  Dora  standing  over  me  with  the  morning 
paper  in  one  hand  and  a  wet  towel  in  the  other. 

"Look!"  she  hissed  at  me,  in  the  approved 
manner  of  the  stage  villainess.  "Look  at  this! 
So  that 's  why  you  came  in  at  five  o  'clock ! ' ' 

Women  always  exaggerate  so.  I  protested 
that  it  was  only  half -past  four  and  with  heavy 
eyes  tried  to  see  what  she  was  talking  about. 
She  pointed  dramatically  at  the  paper  but,  in 
the  general  blur  of  black  and  white,  I  could 
make  out  nothing  until  suddenly  my  own  name 
stood  out  in  the  center  of  a  headline.  Then  I 
became  wide-awake! 

"FAMOUS  FILIBUSTER  CAPTURED  AT  WINKLER'S 

SECRET  SERVICE  AIDED  BY  GILBERT  WINSTON 

WELL-KNOWN  CLUBMAN 

251 


IN  THE  DAEK 

MYSTERIOUS   SWEETHEART   BETRAYS  JAMES   CURLEW 
SOLDIER  OF  FORTUNE" 

Then  followed  a  most  lurid  and  false  account 
of  our  little  drama.  According  to  the  paper 
the  Secret  Service  men  had  discovered  that  Cur- 
lew had  a  sweetheart  in  Chicago  of  whom  he 
was  very  jealous  and  who  had  become  the  "  con- 
stant companion'*  (a  nice  phrase)  of  one  Gil- 
bert Winston,  prominent  "man-about-town" 
(not  a  refined  expression) !  So  Curlew  had  put 
a  detective  agency  on  the  girl's  trail  and  the 
agency  with  enterprising  loyalty  (to  the  Gov- 
ernment, not  to  its  client!)  had  tipped  this 
off  to  the  Secret  Service.  The  federal  agents 
had  enlisted  "Winston's  aid  (news  to  me!)  and 
arranged  a  trap.  Curlew,  "Led  by  the  siren 
call  of  love,"  had  walked  into  the  ambuscade. 
After  a  brief  struggle  with  the  "debonair" 
Winston  (a  choice  adjective!)  the  furious  sol- 
dier of  fortune  had  been  overpowered  by  the 
Secret  Service  men  and  * '  disarmed ' ' !  Winston 
had  immediately  slipped  out  of  "Winkler's 
notorious  place"  with  the  mysterious  woman 

252 


DISGRACING  THE  FAMILY 

whose  name  could  not  be  learned  (for  that 
much  grace  I  blessed  the  federal  officer). 

It  appeared  that  J.  A.  Gibley — vice-presi- 
dent of  the  Gibley  Arms  Company — had  been 
deceived  by  Curlew  into  assisting  the  filibuster 
in  the  purchase  and  shipment  of  a  large  order 
of  rifles  destined  for  revolutionary  use  in  Costa 
Rica  (this  was  probably  a  pure  guess).  On  ac- 
count of  certain  diplomatic  tensities  incidental 
to  American  activities  in  the  Canal  Zone  the 
whole  business  was  quite  unlawful  and  it  was 
understood  that  Mr.  Gibley  had  given  patriotic 
assistance  to  the  authorities.  Mr.  Gibley  said 
over  the  telephone  from  his  residence  (a  po- 
lite phrase  probably  for  some  disreputable 
place  where  a  reporter  had  cornered  him!) 
that  he  did  not  wish  to  be  interviewed  and  dep- 
recated any  notice  of  his  part  in  the  affair. 

The  article  concluded: 

"Mr.  Winston's  sister  answered  the  telephone  at 
his  apartment  in  the  exclusive  Hyde  Park  residence 
section  and  stated  that  Mr.  Winston  was  not  at  home, 
but  that  she  expected  him  at  any  time.  She  denied 

253 


IN  THE  DAEK 

any  knowledge  of  any  other  address  at  which  Mr. 
Winston  could  be  reached!" 

"Well!"  said  sister,  as  I  finally  looked 
up  from  the  paper. 

"Nice  little  story,  isn't  it?"  said  I.  "Parts 
of  it  are  almost  true ! ' ' 

"I  don't  care  whether  it's  true  or  not,"  she 
announced  tragically.  "  It 's  in  the  paper ! ' ' 

"It  surely  is,"  I  admitted.  "Side  by  side 
with  the  announcement  that  the  eminent  Mr. 
Pinkington- Jones  has  left  home  coincidently 
with  the  French  governess!" 

"How  you  can  think  there  is  anything  funny 
in  it,  I  can't  understand." 

"That,"  I  asserted,  "is  because  you  don't 
understand  the  story.  Permit  me  to  assert  that 
my  participation  in  this  affair  is  a  source  of 
satisfaction  to  me.  I  do  not  feel  that  it  was 
at  all  discreditable." 

"Discreditable!"  she  cried.  "The  whole 
thing's  so  common  and  vulgar.  The  only  de- 
cent thing  about  you  in  the  article  is  the  sug- 
gestion that  at  least  you  acted  like  a  gentle- 

254 


DISGRACING  THE  FAMILY 

man.    I  suppose  you  are  proud  that  you  were 
cool  and  brave  in  danger." 

"My  dear  Dora,"  I  replied,  "I  hate  to  dis- 
appoint you  but  there  again  the  article  is  un- 
true. I  was  scared  to  death  and  I  am  sure 
I  punched  the  gentleman  in  a  most  vulgar  and 
unscientific  manner." 

"Oh  dear,  oh  dear,"  and  Dora  collapsed  to 
a  sitting  posture  on  the  side  of  the  bed.  "It's 
just  a  dreadful,  nasty  mess.  I  can't  possibly 
go  to  that  Midgeley  tea  this  afternoon.  I  shan't 
dare  to  show  my  face  in  public  for  a  week !" 

"I'm  really  sorry,"  I  began  contritely,  "that 
this  notoriety  has  arisen  to  embarrass  you. — 
May  I  mention  that  you  are  sitting  on  my  knee 
and  it  hurts? — Thanks — Now  if  you  will  close 
the  windows,  turn  on  the  radiator  and  start 
the  water  in  the  bathtub,  I  will  arise  grace- 
fully and  join  you  at  breakfast." 

Dora  left  the  room  hurriedly  without  doing 
any  of  these  things,  but  at  least  I  had  turned 
tearful  emotion  into  the  channels  of  wrath,  so 
I  arose  quite  cheerfully. 

255 


IN  THE  DARK 

"We  had  just  seated  ourselves  at  the  break- 
fast table  when  the  telephone  rang. 

"More  reporters,  I  suppose,"  said  Dora 
gloomily,  adding  a  moment  later:  "No,  it's 
Edith — she's  coming  right  up  in  the  machine 
and  wants  to  be  sure  you  will  be  here.  Will 
you  wait?" 

"Yes,  tell  her  she  ought  to  send  George  down 
to  business  in  the  motor  and  come  up  in  the 
street  car  herself.  But  if  she  will  take  me 
back  down-town  with  her  I  will  forgive  her. 

"Now,"  I  continued  as  Dora  returned  to  the 
table,  "let's  have  a  peaceful  breakfast.  I  don't 
want  to  tell  this  tale  twice  in  a  half  hour.  I 
shall  wait  until  Edith  comes." 

With  the  morning  sun  lying  warm  across  the 
cheerful  table,  with  its  daily  burden  of  gay 
breakfast  china,  bright  silver  and  chuckling 
coffee  urn,  the  exciting  events  of  a  few  hours 
past  seemed  like  some  foolish  dream.  Yet 
there  lay  the  morning  gossip  before  me  with 
its  sprawling  headlines  and  vehement  half- 
truths.  Like  most  of  the  startling  events  of 

256 


DISGRACING  THE  FAMILY 

life  the  need  of  action  and  the  brevity  of  the 
whole  affair  had  given  me  little  thought  of 
"here  is  an  adventure"  while  it  was  happening. 
So  that  now  in  retrospect  it  was  hard  to  believe 
that  I  had  really  had  an  adventure,  had  par- 
ticipated in  a  matter  of  public  interest.  Then 
again,  the  short  encounter  with  Curlew  was 
only  an  incident  in  the  great  affair  of  my  life 
— in  the  very  serious  business  of  deep,  recipro- 
cated passion  for  a  fascinating  woman.  That 
was  something  worth  while. 

Of  course,  Edith  and  Dora  couldn't  under- 
stand my  attitude ! 

After  Edith's  rustling  arrival  I  patiently  re- 
vised the  newspaper  yarns  to  a  semblance  of 
truth.  Edith  had  brought  with  her  the  Yel- 
low King's  daily  output  of  extravagance  and 
false  romance  and  that  required  minute  anal- 
ysis and  refutation  of  an  amazing  number  of 
false  details  and  unwarranted  inferences. 

At  last,  however,  I  put  the  facts  before  them ; 
the  facts  as  I  knew  them,  which  were  none  too 
pleasing  and  not  very  complete. 

257 


IN  THE  DARK 

"Well,  I  should  think  you'd  feel  like  a  fool," 
said  Edith. 

"I  do,"  was  my  answer.  "You  see,  I'm  in 
love.  Doesn't  it  feel  fine!  Or  don't  you  re- 
member? Perhaps  you  weren't  ever  in  love 
with  George?" 

"I  was  silly  about  him  once,  if  that's  what 
you  mean,"  she  said  tartly. 

"The  insinuation  being,  I  assume,  that  you 
were  never  really  in  love  until  you  met  R.  H.? 
He  appeals  to  your  common  sense !  Of  course, 
you  don't  feel  silly  about  him?" 

"Certainly  not,"  she  insisted.  "Boys  and 
girls  are  silly.  Grown  people  look  things 
squarely  in  the  face." 

"Poor  Edith!"  I  said  compassionately  to 
Dora.  "Think  of  trying  to  look  love  'squarely 
in  the  face' — it's  like  staring  the  sun  out  of 
countenance.  I  can  see  you  analyzing  the 
spectrum ;  red  for  passion ;  green  for  jealousy ; 
violet  for  devotion.  Edith!  Edith!  When 
you  see  a  rainbow  in  the  sky,  worship  it  afar, 
the  divine,  the  unattainable.  Don't  look  at  the 

258 


DISGRACING  THE  FAMILY 

little  man-made  imitation  and  think  you  are  in 
touch  with  the  infinite!" 

"How  poetic!"  she  sneered. 

"Everyone  really  in  love  feels  poetic,"  said 
I.  "You  convict  yourself  of  a  false  passion." 

"What  I  wish  to  know,"  announced  Dora, 
"is  what  Gilbert  is  going  to  do  about  this  af- 
fair. I  don't  approve  of  Edith's  ideas  but, 
at  least,  she  has  some  respect  for  the  good 
opinion  of  society." 

"  'High'  society,  or  society  in  general?"  I 
asked. 

"Both." 

"Let  me  assure  you,"  I  replied,  happily, 
"that  society  in  general  probably  regards  me 
as  quite  a  hero  this  morning." 

"That  will  not  be  the  attitude  of  the  people 
with  whom  I  usually  associate,"  said  Dora. 

"Nor  of  my  friends,"  chimed  in  Edith. 

"Dear  me,"  I  said,  "I  suppose  I've  been 
guilty  of  that  horrible  thing,  'bad  form.'  Well, 
all  that  you  girls  can  do  is  to  disown  me.  Just 
pass  me  up  as  'queer'  and  tell  your  swagger 

259 


IN  THE  DAEK 

friends  that  we  never  have  been  'sympathetic.' 
That's  the  customary  way  of  avoiding  respon- 
sibility for  awkward  relatives.  Even  our  'best 
people'  have  relatives  of  whom  they  are  not 
proud!  Of  course,  the  horrible  fact  can't  be 
faced  and  admitted,  but  it  can  be  kept  out  of 
sight." 

"It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  sneer,"  said 
Dora,  "but  you  are  just  as  fond  of  social  posi- 
tion as  either  Edith  or  I,  only  like  most  bache- 
lors you  are  too  lazy  to  attend  to  your  obliga- 
tions, so  you  haven't  got  on  very  well.  Now 
you  pretend  to  disdain  it  all."  This  was  a 
favorite  theme  with  both  my  sisters. 

"It  annoys  me  beyond  words,"  I  retorted, 
"to  see  that  you've  sunk  so  low  in  your  sense 
of  values  that  you  cannot  conceive  that  every- 
body does  not  rate  an  invitation  to  the  Midge- 
leys  as  high  as  you  do.  That's  true  of  all 
social  climbers.  They  can't  believe  that  every- 
body doesn't  play  the  game  who  can.  Because 
I  like  chess  must  I  also  love  checkers  ?  Because 
I  enjoy  the  book  of  life,  must  I  therefore  covet 

260 


a  de  luxe  edition  of  selected  trivialities  bound 
in  satin  and  soaked  in  perfume?" 

"It's  very  easy  to  be  moral  and  decry  the 
wickedness  of  smart  people  who  really  know 
how  to  live,'*  said  Edith.  "But  it  is  good  so- 
ciety that  is  responsible  for  most  of  the  beau- 
tiful things  in  life,  art  and  music  and  all  such 
things — "  she  finished  vaguely. 

"Dear  me,  what  a  moldy  untruth  we  have 
dragged  to  the  light."  I  was  incensed.  "Did 
you  ever  know  a  social  leader  to  patronize 
really  obscure,  struggling  genius?  It  couldn't 
be  done.  The  artist  would  be  a  fraud  who 
would  tolerate  it.  No,  the  real  workers  work 
alone,  until  the  world  begins  to  feel  the  thrill 
of  a  new  voice,  to  feel  the  power  of  a  new 
hand,  to  feel  the  pressure  of  new  ideas.  Then 
when  the  world  is  ready  to  be  shaped  a  little 
by  the  strength  that  has  grown  in  darkness,  in 
solitude,  in  pain — then  stupid  wealth  comes 
along  and  claims  a  new  slave  to  be  dragged 
behind  the  gaudy  chariots.  With  food  and 
drink  and  petting  the  idlers  soften  the  clean 

261 


IN  THE  DAEK 

hard  muscles.  They  dull  the  alert  brain. 
They  drag  him  down  from  a  hard,  glorious 
youth  to  a  sleek,  conceited  old  age  and  ask  that 
their  'encouragement  of  the  artist'  should  be 
praised!  Fattening  the  lions!  That  is  the 
service  of  Wealth  to  Art!" 

"Is  that  from  your  last  Iconoclast  Banquet 
speech?"  asked  Dora  superciliously. 

"Yes,  it  is,"  I  admitted,  "and  since  you  are 
resolved  on  teaching  me  things  I  won't  learn 
I'll  finish  the  speech  and  tell  you  why! 

"I've  no  deep  hostility  to  so-called  high  so- 
ciety. I  don't  take  any  demagogic  position 
and  rave  about  marble  palaces  built  on  rotting 
souls.  It's  true,  of  course,  that  practically 
every  big  fortune  is  a  stolen  one.  Even  when 
men  succeed  in  'legitimate  business'  a  thousand 
lives  pay  with  the  daily  misery  of  poverty  for 
one  family's  usurious  profits.  And  when  a 
man  cleans  up  a  few  millions  in  a  few  years 
it's  pretty  plain  that  he  is  more  of  a  menace  to 
his  fellows,  and  more  of  a  savage,  than  the 
most  ferocious  crook  in  all  the  penitentiaries. 

262 


DISGRACING  THE  FAMILY 

But  that's  a  temporary  evil.  A  man  tries  to 
mortgage  the  future  of  thousands  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  his  dynasty.  While  he  lives  he  may 
succeed,  but  luxury,  disease  and  eternal  laws 
start  spreading  the  money  around  again  as 
soon  as  he  dies. 

"I  don't  feel  bitterly  at  either  the  fools  or 
the  careworn  men  of  responsibility  in  the  social 
aristocracy.  But  the  game  they  play  is  stupid 
amusement  for  stupid  people.  I  feel  ashamed 
when  people  imagine  that  I  am  so  vain  and  so 
small  a  man  as  to  wish  to  join  in  such  dull 
sport.  The  only  real  interest  is  found  in  the 
constant  trifling  with  the  most  serious  thing  in 
life,  the  interdependence  of  men  and  women. 

' '  Trifling ! ' '   Dora  attempted  to  stop  the  flow. 

"I  say,  trifling,  because  the  risks  of  intimacy 
are  less,  and  infinitely  more  worth  while,  if  that 
intimacy  has  a  purpose.  But  the  intimacy 
whose  sole  purpose  is  increased  intimacy  is  a 
pretty  rotten  thing.  Yet  what  is  one  to  get 
from  men  and  women,  not  necessarily  fools, 
but  trained  to  be  fools  in  life!  Take  the  aver- 

263 


IN  THE  DABK 

age  dinner — a  wonderful  opportunity  for 
sharpening  the  wits.  But  the  ideal  compan- 
ion is  a  capable  flirt.  I  wouldn't  object  to  that, 
if  flirting  had  any  possibilities.  I  learned  it 
when  I  was  eighteen  in  about  ten  lessons  given 
by  a  very  cute  little  blond  teacher." 

"She  may  have  been  cute,"  broke  in  Edith, 
"but  she  was  a  poor  teacher!" 

"You  say  that  because  I  don't  flirt  unless  I 
wish  to  and  I  so  seldom  do.  Did  you  ever 
play  tit-tat-to  in  school?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  they  answered  in  chorus. 

"That's  flirting,  pictorially  represented. 
You  can  learn  to  play  like  an  old  stager  in  five 
minutes.  It  has  absolutely  no  possibilities, 
yet  it  has  the  silly  fascination  to  be  derived 
out  of  always  thinking  that  something  is  just 
about  to  happen — something  which  never 
does." 

"Have  you  finished  the  lecture?"  asked 
Dora  wearily. 

"Yes,  now  you  may  begin.  All  I  ask  is  that 
you  will  not  talk  to  me  about  social  position. 

264 


DISGRACING  THE  FAMILY 

My  social  position  is  my  value  as  a  man,  not 
my  eligibility  as  a  dinner  guest  of  the  Midge- 
leys.  Nor  will  I  sympathize  with  your  loss  of 
caste  through  my  follies.  As  I  said,  I  think 
the  stupid  amusements  are  all  right  for  the 
stupid  people  but  when  I  see  really  intelligent 
persons  trailing  after  vulgar  wealth  in-  search 
of  social  position  I  feel  ashamed  for  my  friends, 
whose  vanity  is  satisfied  at  the  cost  of  self- 
respect.  You  have  a  mind,  Dora.  What  do 
you  do  with  it?  Do  you  leave  it  with  your 
wraps  when  you  go  to  the  Midgeleys?" 

"  There  are  a  great  many  very  bright  people 
at  the  Midgeleys." 

'  *  Of  course,  there  are  parasites  like  yourself, 
but  whom  would  you  name  as  the  three  most 
brilliant  men,  that  really  belong  with  that 
crowd?" 

"Jack  Deerfield,  Mr.  Midgeley  and  Henry 
Marsh,"  said  Dora  promptly. 

"I  knew  you'd  name  them,"  I  said. 
"Everyone  drags  out  those  three  for  the  de- 
fense when  I  speak  of  stupidity  and  orchids. 

265 


IN  THE  DAEK 

Deerfield  has  a  gutter  mind  which  is  naturally 
interesting  to  those  unfamiliar  with  gutters. 
But  I  heard  him  chaff  barroom  loafers  during 
that  political  campaign  of  his  and  he  made  a 
poor  show.  He's  only  brilliant  because  he's 
out  of  place.  He  should  be  a  waiter  in  Wink- 
ler's!  Midgeley  is  a  great  executive,  a  big 
business  man,  so  what  he  says  is  important; 
but  he  himself  will  never  add  a  thought  to  the 
world. 

11  Henry  Marsh — poor  Henry — he's  the  really 
misplaced  man.  He  cried  on  my  shoulder  one 
night  after  too  many  cocktails  because  every- 
thing he  said  had  a  double  meaning  and  no- 
body ever  caught  but  one.  He  said  he  never 
knew  which  one  would  arrive.  But  the  other 
was  sure  to  be  wasted.  'Lost  little  pearls,'  he 
called  them.  'I'm  a  pearl  fisher  for  swine,' 
he  moaned.  Yes,  Marsh  is  misplaced  and  he 
knows  it.  If  he  didn't  have  money  he  could 
associate  with  interesting  people  and  be 
happy." 

uSo  you  are  perfectly  willing  to  sacrifice  our 
266 


DISGBACING  THE  FAMILY 

social  position  for  your  own  cheap  pleasure," 
said  Dora  violently. 

' '  '  Our  position, '  "  I  quoted.  ' '  Edith's  social 
prestige  isn't  at  stake.  She's  going  to  run 
away  with  somebody's  husband.  That's 
hardly  a  social  coup." 

"I  shan't  do  anything  which  will  get  in  the 
papers,"  announced  Edith. 

"Ah,  ha!"  I  cried,  "at  last  the  standard  of 
ethics  is  made  clear  to  me.  Don't  do  anything 
that  will  put  your  name  in  the  paper.  On  what 
pages,  Edith?  I  often  see  your  name  in  the 
society  columns  and  I  know  you've  sent  the 
notice  in  yourself — so  that  must  be  all  right." 

"I'm  not  advertised  in  some  discreditable 
affair." 

"Neither  was  I.  I  helped  capture  a  bad 
man,  according  to  the  papers." 

"In  company  with  an  unknown  woman,  in  a 
disreputable  place." 

"Now  I  understand  it,"  I  shouted.  "Don't 
let  your  name  appear  in  the  papers  in  con- 
nection with  unknown  people  or  disreputable 

267 


IN  THE  DABK 

places — disreputable  places  not  frequented  by 
nice  people.  I  had  to  put  in  that  qualification 
because  you  often  lunch  at  the  toughest  hotel 
in  town  and  you  dine  occasionally  with  the 
Pigglers  where  more  disreputable  things  hap- 
pen than  anywhere  else  in  the  city  outside  of 
the  red-light  district." 

"You're  quite  hopeless,  I  see,"  complained 
Dora.  "I  only  hope  for  one  thing,  that  you 
will  not  announce  your  engagement  right  away 
and  that  you  won't  be  in  a  hurry  to  marry. 
I  hope  you  will  at  least  take  time  to  find  out  her 
real  name  before  you  give  her  to  us  as  a  sister- 
in-law!" 

"Don't  worry,"  I  said.  "I  have  no  inten- 
tion of  marrying  before  next  week  and  when 
I  present  her  as  a  sister-in-law  her  real  name 
will  be  "Winston.  By  the  way,  there  is  no  need 
of  teasing  you  unnecessarily.  The  lady's  real 
name  she  gave  me  permission  last  night  to  tell 
to  my  family.  It's  Gwenn  Fenton.  And,  as 
for  her  family,  her  brother-in-law  is  Eex  Har- 

268 


DISGRACING  THE  FAMILY 

bury  of  Detroit.    You'll  find  him  in  the  Blue 
Book  and  in  Who's  Who  in  Snobland." 

"Rex  Harbury!"  exclaimed  Edith,  with  a 
little  gasp. 

"Yes,  quite  an  ultra-respectable.  You've 
heard  of  him?" 

"I — I — "  she  paused  and  bit  her  lips. 

"R.  H."  I  shouted  in  sudden  inspiration. 
"R.  H.  By  George!  this  is  rich!" 

"Is  he  R.  H.?"  asked  Dora. 

"Yes,  he  is,"  said  Edith  with  a  faint  simper 
of  pride. 

I  laughed  loud  and  long. 

"This  is  certainly  rich!"  I  chortled.  "My 
married  sister  protesting  against  her  bachelor 
brother's  low  entanglement  with  Harbury's 
sister-in-law  but  maintaining  stoutly  the  pro- 
priety of  her  affair  with  the  gentleman  him- 
self!" 

"I  didn't  know  she  was  connected  with  good 
people,"  replied  Edith. 

"Of  course,  that  makes  it  all  right,"  I  said. 
269 


IN  THE  DAEK 

"It  makes  no  difference  what  you  do  so  long 
as  you  do  it  with  the  right  kind  of  people. 
You're  a  sincere  little  democrat,  aren't  you?" 

"I  never  pretended  to  be  a  democrat,"  she 
retorted.  "I  believe  in  an  aristocracy  of  well- 
bred,  educated  people." 

"You  forgot  one  adjective,  'wealthy,'  "  I 
suggested.  "Must  have  money,  or  the  whole 
thing  will  be  very  vulgar.  Elopement  to  St. 
Joe  is  a  disgusting  affair  but  flight  from  Palm 
Beach  to  Eeno  is  a  beautiful  romance.  In  the 
classic  language  of  Shakespere,  'go  to!'  Edith; 
you  have  become  absurd!" 

The  family  conference  broke  up  immediately. 
Even  Dora  had  nothing  to  say  until  I  stood 
in  the  hall  putting  on  my  overcoat.  Then,  as 
I  ceased  bantering  the  two  for  a  moment,  she 
remarked  casually: 

"If  you  would  care  to  have  me  call  on  your 
fiancee,  Gilbert,  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  so.  What 
is  her  address?" 

"I  shall  also,"  said  Edith,  unlatching  the 
door  and  stepping  into  the  outer  hallway. 

270 


DISGRACING  THE  FAMILY 

"I'll  find  out  what  her  receiving  day  is,"  I 
answered  mockingly.  "I  expected  you  would 
wish  to  know  several  days  ago,  but  you  both 
forgot  to  inquire,  so  I  didn't  ask  her!" 

As  I  started  to  close  the  door  behind  me  a 
better  thought  occurred. 

"Don't  you  bother  about  it,  Dora,"  I  said; 
"it  has  just  appealed  to  me  that  an  informal 
meeting  would  be  much  more  comfortable  for 
all  concerned.  I'll  give  a  little  breakfast  at 
about  two  A.  M.  at  Winkler's,  and  ask  you  all 
there,  Miss  Fenton,  Dora,  Edith  and  George 
and  the  Harburys  I  I'll  find  out  when  the  Har- 
burys  are  going  to  be  in  town  and  let  you  all 
know  the  date!" 

I  chuckled  unpleasantly  all  the  way  down 
stairs  but  Edith  showed  great  self-control. 
Probably  for  once  she  didn't  take  me  seriously. 


271 


CHAPTEE    XVI 

A  BUSY   MOBNING 

THE  United  States  Marshal's  office  was  a 
disappointment  to  me.  I  had  expected  to 
pass  through  a  steel  door  into  stone-walled 
rooms.  Instead  I  found  myself  in  a  very  or- 
dinary place  of  business  heavily  carpeted  and 
comfortably  fitted  with  mahogany  furniture. 

"Go  through  that  door  in  the  corner,"  an- 
swered an  indifferent  clerk,  in  response  to  my 
request  to  see  Curlew. 

I  walked  into  a  big,  bare  room,  where  several 
men  were  lounging.  At  least  here  there  were 
bars  on  the  windows!  Then  I  discovered  a 
big  cage  in  the  corner  and  the  whole  place  took 
on  an  ugly  look.  It  showed  that  there  was  a 
harsh  power  behind  all  this  careless  exterior, 
that  force  was  the  master.  I  realized  that  men 
were  brought  here  who  must  be  chained  and 

272 


A  BUSY  MORNING 

guarded  like  vicious  animals,  men  who  must 
be  beaten  like  beasts  when  they  resisted,  that 
some  of  them  must  come  from  underground 
dens,  the  foulness  of  which  I  could  only  vaguely 
imagine.  Then  there  were  men  like  Curlew — 
who  rose  from  a  chair  near  a  window  and 
greeted  me  with  belligerent  embarrassment. 
His  tired  lids  drooped  over  the  keen  eyes. 

"There  has  been  some  mistake,"  I  said 
lamely. 

"No  mistake  about  this,"  he  said  harshly, 
sweeping  his  hand  toward  the  cage. 

"I  mean  that  I  think  we  have  been  working 
at  cross-purposes." 

"Perhaps.    But  you  didn't  play  square!" 

"Yes,  I  did,"  I  retorted.  "I  didn't  obey 
you,  but  you  had  no  right  to  give  orders.  Let's 
forget  that.  Now,  she  has  asked  me  to  see 
if  there  is  anything  you  would  like  done." 

"She,"  he  repeated.  Then  a  cunning  look 
came  into  his  eyes.  "Who  is  'she'!" 

"You  know,"  I  evaded. 

"I'm  not  sure  I  do,"  he  said  slowly. 
273 


IN  THE  DARK 

"  Perhaps  she  is  not  the  one  you  think  she 
is,"  I  suggested. 

"Perhaps,"  he  admitted.  He  changed  the 
subject  abruptly.  "I'm  all  right  in  this  mat- 
ter. They  won't  dare  to  do  anything  to  me. 
When  a  lawyer  puts  it  up  to  them,  they'll  quit." 

"You  have  a  lawyer,  of  course,"  I  sug- 
gested. 

"No,  I  haven't,"  he  said,  with  entire  frank- 
ness. "But  I'll  get  a  good  one.  I  should  have 
arranged  before  only  I  didn't  expect  to  be 
caught — here." 

"Would  you  care  to  have  me  recommend 
someone?"  I  asked. 

He  looked  at  me  shrewdly. 

"You're  not  trying  to  make  sure  that  the 
case  is  messed,  are  you?"  he  asked  with  a  sort 
of  sad  grin. 

"No,"  I  laughed.  "But  I  was  thinking  this 
over  this  morning  after  I  read  the  papers  and 
I  realized  that  there  were  only  two  or  three 
men  in  town  who  really  'knew  the  ropes'  in 
these  diplomatic  tangles.  One  of  them  happens 

274 


A  BUSY  MORNING 

to  be  my  brother-in-law.  I'm  not  drumming 
up  business  for  him,  but  he  is  just  the  kind 
of  man  you  must  want." 

"What  is  his  name?" 

"Carfax,  George  Carfax." 

"I  don't  know  him,"  said  Curlew,  "but  if 
you  say  he's  the  man  I  would  be  much  obliged 
if  you  would  ask  him  to  come  to  see  me.  I'm 
not  broke,  by  the  way.  This  is  not  a  charity 
case." 

"I'll  get  him  at  once,"  I  said,  glad  to  end 
this  difficult  interview. 

After  a  talk  with  Carfax  I  passed  the  balance 
of  the  morning  most  unhappily  in  my  office. 
First  I  read  all  the  morning  papers  to  be  fully 
informed  as  to  the  varieties  of  untruth  in  cir- 
culation concerning  my  night's  adventure. 
Then  the  telephone  calls  began.  Friends  rep- 
resenting every  conceivable  attitude  detailed 
their  feelings.  The  sympathizers  were  the 
worst,  "so  sorry"  I  had  been  "mixed  up  in 
such  a  queer-looking  affair."  Of  course,  they 
knew  it  was  all  right,  but  others  who  did  not 

275 


IN  THE  DAEK 

know  me  so  well  were  "certain  to  misunder- 
stand." 

The  "joshers"  were  in  the  majority.  "Is 
this  Winkler's  Annex?"  asked  one,  as  I  took 
np  the  phone.  "Well,  let  me  speak  to  Mr. 
Winston,  the  Protector  of  Misplaced  Inno- 
cence. ' ' 

"Hello!"  cried  another,  "Secret  Service 
Bureau?  Let  me  have  Sherlock  Winston,  the 
Slippery  Sleuth." 

Dr.  Grace  called  up  and  did  an  "I-told-you- 
so"  act,  until  I  hung  up  the  receiver. 

Gibley  telephoned  to  deny  having  been  au- 
thority for  numerous  lies  accredited  to  him. 

It  was  a  very  jolly  forenoon! 

At  about  twelve-thirty  I  went  over  to  Michi- 
gan Avenue  to  meet  Gwenn  for  luncheon. 

In  the  hotel  parlor  she  greeted  me  with 
happy  eyes. 

"Dot  is  here,"  she  exclaimed,  "with  her  hus- 
band. Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harbury,  you  know.  I 
promised  that  we  would  lunch  with  them. '  * 

"Why  not  they  with  us?"  I  suggested. 
276 


A  BUSY  MOENING 

"No,  no,"  she  decided.  "My  family  must  do 
a  little  entertaining  now  and  then." 

"Evidently  you  didn't  like  the  entertainment 
I  provided  last  night." 

She  grimaced  at  the  recollection. 

"Oh,  how  is  Mr.  Curlew?" 

"He  says  that  he  is  all  right,"  I  replied. 
"Carfax  is  with  him  now — I  told  him  that  I 
would  be  here  for  lunch  so  he  may  drop  in 
if  he  has  any  news." 

A  few  minutes  later  I  was  introduced  to 
Gwenn's  sister  and  her  husband — the  famous 
"E.  H." 

To  my  surprise  he  did  not  appear  at  all  like 
a  home-breaker.  He  looked  the  hard-working, 
quick-scheming  American  business  man  to  the 
last  inch.  He  seemed  reasonably  fond  of  his 
wife.  But  I  would  have  sworn  at  first  sight 
that  he  would  never  for  a  moment  consider  per- 
mitting any  romantic  entanglement  to  swing 
him  out  of  the  steady,  well-planned  career  of 
progress  toward  whatever  goal  he  had  chosen. 

His  wife  bore  a  strong  family  resemblance 
277 


IN  THE  DARK 

to  her  sister,  Gwenn,  but  their  obvious  dif- 
ferences in  character  had  left  plain  marks  upon 
their  faces.  They  had  the  same  appealing 
gray  eyes,  but  where  the  wistfulness  in  Gwenn 's 
merged  into  self-reliance  Dot's  glance  was  posi- 
tively pathetic  in  its  utter  dependence.  Her 
chin  had  an  irresolute  droop  while  Gwenn 's  was 
set  firm  in  a  most  attractive  upward  tilt.  Dot 
had  the  same  heavy  masses  of  hair  but  worn 
with  an  elaborateness  of  coiffure  that  added  to 
the  general  "doll-baby"  effect  which,  to  me, 
characterized  her.  Her  voice  had  a  slight, 
artificial  hauteur  which  both  amused  .and  irri- 
tated me.  No,  I  did  not  care  particularly  for 
Dorothy ! 

"Well,  well,"  said  Harbury,  after  we  were 
all  seated  in  a  corner  of  the  crowded  grill  room. 
"You  and  Gwenn  had  quite  a  little  adventure 
last  night,  Mr.  Winston.  At  least  so  the  papers 
inform  me!" 

"Really,"  I  protested,  "I  hope  you  under- 
stand—  " 

"Oh,  Gwenn  has  told  us  all  about  it!  Plucky 
278 


A  BUSY  MORNING 

thing  for  her  to  do,  to  try  to  throw  Curlew 
off  the  trail  by  such  methods.  But,  I  say 
frankly,  if  we  had  been  here  we  would  never 
have  permitted  it,  would  we,  Dorothy?" 

"No,  of  course  not,"  said  Dorothy,  a  bit 
dubiously.  "Still  it  was  awfully  nice  of  you, 
Gwenn,  and  of  you,  Mr.  Winston,  to  help  her. ' ' 

"You're  prejudiced,"  remarked  Harbury. 
"The  fear  of  Curlew  has  become  a  disease  with 
you.  I  don't  believe  that  he  would  be  so  ter- 
rible if  he  knew  the  real  situation." 

"You  don't  know  him!"  said  Dorothy. 

"You  evidently  do,"  I  suggested. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  shrugging  her  shoul- 
ders. "I  know  him  and  I'm  afraid  of  him." 

A  bell-boy  laid  a  card  in  front  of  Harbury. 
He  looked  much  annoyed  for  a  moment.  Then 
said:  "Please  excuse  me  for  a  few  minutes," 
and  followed  the  man  from  the  room. 

We  continued  a  desultory  conversation  for  a 
few  moments,  when,  glancing  out  of  a  near-by 
window  I  saw  Carfax  approaching  the  hotel. 
He  stopped  for  a  moment  and  spoke  to  the 

279 


IN  THE  DAEK 

chauffeur  of  a  car  standing  at  the  curb.  It 
was  his  own  car!  In  a  moment  I  was  con- 
fronted by  a  most  unpleasant  situation.  Edith 
must  be  in  the  hotel.  She  had  evidently  sent 
a  card  in  to  Harbury.  As  soon  as  George  was 
introduced  he  would  also  connect  her  presence 
with  Harbury 's.  Would  he  preserve  that  even 
temper  for  which  he  was  noted,  or  would  there 
be  a  scene! 

George  entered  the  dining  room  and,  peer- 
ing around,  saw  me  standing  at  our  table. 

"Gwenn,"  I  said,  "I  wish  to  present  my 
brother-in-law,  Mr.  Carfax.  Mrs.  Harbury — " 

"Yes,  we've  met  before,  in  Detroit,"  said 
George,  with  a  shade  of  emphasis. 

"Mrs.  Harbury  and  Miss — Littlefield  are  sis- 
ters," I  explained. 

George  puckered  his  forehead  at  the  name. 

' '  My  real  name  is  Fenton, ' '  explained  Gwenn. 
"I  used  the  name  Littlefield  in  Chicago  to  keep 
the  persistent  Mr.  Curlew  off  my  trail." 

"Ah!  I  see,"  said  George.  "Is  Mr.  Har- 
bury—!" 

280 


A  BUSY  MORNING 

"Mr.  Harbury  has  just  stepped  out,"  said 
Dorothy  quickly.  "Won't  you  join  us?" 

"No,  I  must  hurry  on  to  another  engage- 
ment," he  replied.  "I  dropped  in  to  explain 
to  those  interested  about  Mr.  Curlew's  case." 

""Wait  a  minute,"  I  said,  acting  under  im- 
pulse. "I'll  go  find  Harbury.  He  wouldn't 
wish  to  miss  the  story,  I'm  sure." 

In  a  retired  corner  of  the  "Tapestry  room" 
I  found  Edith  and  "E.  H."  engaged  in  very 
earnest  conversation.  Both  looked  much  con- 
fused as  I  approached.  I  dispensed  with  all 
preliminaries. 

"Mr.  Harbury,"  I  said,  "I  should  like  to 
speak  with  you  a  moment." 

"Now,  Gilbert — "  began  Edith  in  a  tone  of 
passionate  vexation. 

"Mr.  Carfax  has  joined  our  little  party,"  I 
said  quietly,  with  malicious  intent,  "and  I  have 
come  to  bring  back  Mr.  Harbury.  But  first  I 
wish  to  have  a  word  with  you  in  private.  I'm 
sure  you'll  excuse  us,  Edith." 

Edith  was   silenced. 
281 


IN  THE  DAEK 

"Mr.  Harbury,"  I  said,  when  we  had  walked 
out  of  hearing  distance,  "I  don't  know  you 
very  well  but  I  would  like  to  make  a  few  sug- 
gestions— " 

This  was  just  my  way  of  getting  started.  I 
hadn't  a  thing  in  my  head  to  say.  Happily  he 
saved  me  any  further  trouble. 

' '  Mr.  Winston, ' '  he  replied,  * '  I  might  as  well 
confess  that  I'm  an  ass,  but  not  a  knave ;  please 
understand  that.  I  see  that  you  partly  under- 
stand this  situation.  Let  me  make  it  still 
clearer.  Mrs.  Carfax  and  I  have  been  carry- 
ing on  a  sort  of  long-distance  flirtation  for 
some  time  and  the  idea  of  either  one  regard- 
ing it  seriously  never  entered  my  head  until 
recently.  My  wife  and  I  get  along  very  well 
together  and  from  all  appearances  I  should  as- 
sume that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carfax  were  a  fairly 
congenial  couple." 

"They  are,"  I  interrupted. 

"From  the  little  IVe  seen  of  him  he  appears 
to  be  a  fine  fellow.  I'm  not  particularly  con- 
ceited and  I  would  be  slow  to  believe  that  his 

282 


A  BUSY  MORNING 

wife  cared  more  for  me  than  for  him.  In  fact 
I  don't  believe  it!"  he  ended  defiantly. 

" Neither  do  I,"  was  my  cheerful  response. 

"Well,  then,  why  the  devil!"  he  burst  out. 
"Oh,  if  I  say  anything  I'll  talk  like  a  cad. 
If  I  don't  say  anything  I'll  make  a  bad  situa- 
tion worse." 

"Let  me  say  it,"  I  suggested.  "I'm  Mrs. 
Carfax's  brother  so  I  needn't  try  to  pose  as 
chivalric.  Edith  is  still  in  the  'sweet-sixteen' 
stage  of  life.  Some  women  never  outgrow  it. 
To  her,  life  has  no  serious  responsibilities.  Of 
course,  the  play-child  is  out  of  place  in  the  work- 
a-day  world,  so  she  lives  in  a  neurotic  fairy 
land.  When  a  fairy  prince  comes  along  and 
touches  a  nerve  of  passion  she  vibrates  clear 
into  what  she  calls  her  soul,  which,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  is  just  an  avidity  for  physical  and  men- 
tal exhilaration." 

"You're  pretty  harsh  on  her,"  he  objected. 

"You  would  be,  too,"  I  retorted,  "if  you 
knew  George  Carfax  as  well  as  I  do.  To  con- 
tinue, you  came  along,  a  bit  bored,  I  think, 

283 


IN  THE  DAEK 

by  a  pleasing  but  unexciting  constant  compan- 
ion— "  his  eyes  narrowed  a  trifle — "and  found 
a  woman  whose  spirit  bounded  up  at  your  call. 
She  found  a  new  man,  interested  in  strange, 
new  things,  and,  most  of  all,  actively  interested 
in  her,  as  almost  any  man  is  in  a  pretty  woman 
who  has  had  no  opportunity  to  bore  him.  Now, 
she  has  taken  you  as  a  serious  possibility  of 
relief  from — not  from  her  husband — but  from 
herself.  You,  on  your  part,  don't  desire  to  be 
relieved  of  either  your  wife  or  your  own  way 
of  living.  Am  I  right  ?" 

"That's  about  the  case,"  he  said,  a  bit  sul- 
lenly. 

"Then  you'd  better  let  me  explain  it  to 
Edith,"  I  finished  abruptly. 

"Oh,  that's  a  weak,  cowardly  thing  to  do," 
he  said  with  a  flash  of  the  spirit  for  which  I  had 
been  waiting.  "I  was  so  struck  in  a  heap  by 
her  attitude  that  I  couldn't  quite  get  myself 
together.  It's  my  mistake.  It's  up  to  me  to 
try  to  square  things." 

284 


A  BUSY  MORNING 

"I'll  wait  for  you,"  I  suggested,  "as  I  prom- 
ised to  bring  you  back  to  the  table  with  me." 

He  returned  to  Edith,  who  had  been  flashing 
furious  wireless  messages  at  me  from  her  se- 
cluded corner.  Edith  evidently  gathered  his 
intentions  very  quickly,  for  in  a  few  minutes  she 
came  sweeping  across  the  room  with  a  most 
embarrassed  "R.  H."  scurrying,  red-faced,  be- 
hind her.  I  halted  the  progress  of  the  in- 
dignant goddess  at  the  door. 

''Let  me  by,"  she  commanded  in  the  ap- 
proved manner  of  melodrama. 

"Just  a  moment,  Edith,"  I  said  firmly. 
' '  George  is  downstairs,  looking  for  you.  There 
is  no  reason  why  he  should  know  anything  about 
this  but  he  would  think  it  strange  if  you  ran 
away  from  him." 

"He  can  think  what  he  pleases,"  she  cried 
angrily.  "I'm  going  home." 

"Just  a  word,  Edith,"  begged  Harbury,  at 
her  elbow. 

She  expunged  him  from  the  scene  with  a 
285 


IN  THE  DAEK 

rapid  glance  full  of  that  historic  fury  of  a 
"woman  scorned." 

"I  don't  care  for  any  more  words — with  any- 
one,'* she  announced  icily. 

"Edith,"  I  pleaded.  "Haven't  you  ridden 
rough-shod  over  George's  feelings  long  enough! 
The  least  you  can  do  now  is  to  wait  for  him 
and  not  make  this  situation  any  worse." 

Her  lip  trembled  and  she  suddenly  shut  her 
eyes.  Then  without  a  word  she  turned  and 
walked  back  to  her  corner.  I  followed  her  and, 
just  to  make  sure,  whispered: 

"I'll  tell  him  you  are  here.  He  is  going  to 
explain  to  me  about  Curlew.  Then  he'll  come 
right  up.  That  will  give  you  time  to  calm  off." 

My  speech  was  not  diplomatic  and  she  made 
no  response.  Harbury  and  I  walked  down 
stairs  in  silence.  He  and  George  shook  hands 
in  a  peculiar  manner  which  might  be  described 
as  "cordial  restraint." 

"I  must  run  along,"  said  George,  peering 
inquiringly  at  Harbury  and  me.  "But  I  came 
over  to  explain  in  a  word  or  two  about  Cur- 

286 


A  BUSY  MORNING 

lew.  I  had  a  talk  with  him  and  then  a  con- 
ference with  the  District  Attorney.  As  near 
as  I  can  judge  you  are  all  a  bit  interested  in 
his  future  movements." 

" Considerably,"  said  Harbury. 

"My  gracious,  yes,"  sputtered  Dorothy. 

"It  will  be  no  breach  of  professional  con- 
fidence," said  Carfax,  "especially  as  Curlew 
charged  me  with  certain  messages  to  some  of 
you  which  I  must  deliver  and  explain." 


287 


CHAPTER 

THE  FILIBUSTER 

U  TIM  CURLEW  was  forced  to  leave  the 

*J  country  some  years  ago,"  began  Carfax, 
"for  reasons  well  known  to  all  present" 

" Except  to  me,"  I  interrupted. 

Gwenn  smiled. 

"I'll  tell  you  all  about  it,  soon,"  she  prom- 
ised. 

"He  wandered  around  in  South  America  for 
a  time  and  finally  came  North  to  Costa  Rica 
just  in  time  to  get  mixed  up  in  one  of  their 
periodic,  teapot-tempest  revolutions.  The  af- 
fair was  much  complicated  by  United  States 
operations  in  the  Canal  Zone. 

"Of  course,  as  usual,  the  *  nigger  in  the  wood- 
pile* was  a  financial  exploitation.  Certain  cap- 
italists unable  to  get  what  they  wanted  out  of 
the  government  instigated  the  revolt  to  put  in 

288 


THE  FILIBUSTER 

power  an  administration  which  they  could  own. 
Also  according  to  precedent  there  were  two 
factions  trying  to  monopolize  the  ear  at  "Wash- 
ington so  that  United  States  intervention 
would  aid  the  *  right '  side.  The  Gibley  Arms 
Company  had  its  agents  working  with  Curlew. 
But  when  the  row  got  very  warm  and  the  Cur- 
lew people  lost  out  in  Washington,  the  Gibleys 
promptly  changed  sides  and  began  betraying 
their  customer.  That's  the  sort  of  'commer- 
cial interest'  that  is  always  howling  for  'inter- 
vention* and  'protection*  of  'American 
rights.'  " 

Carfax  paused  in  his  story  long  enough  to 
express  in  a  few  choice  words  his  opinion  of 
the  tribe  of  Gibley. 

"Of  course,  this  Gibley  puppy  here  hasn't 
the  brains  to  do  anything  except  lie,"  he  con- 
cluded. "It's  old  Peter  Gibley  in  New  York, 
his  uncle,  who  plays  the  game. 

"Well,  to  go  on,  Curlew  had  played  fast  and 
loose  with  this  affair  for  sometime  and  was 
making  considerable  money  at  it,  as  well  as 

289 


IN  THE  DARK 

having  what  he  called  a  good  time.  He  spent 
a  good  many  months  in  this  country  during 
recent  years,  apparently  searching  for  someone 
when  not  attending  to  filibustering  business — " 

Carfax  looked  around  and  Harbury,  Dorothy 
and  Gwenn  all  nodded  in  understanding. 

"Big  success  seemed  in  his  grasp  a  few  weeks 
ago,"  continued  George,  "when  someone  in 
Washington  turned  traitor.  Curlew  rushed 
back  to  this  country  to  try  to  save  the  situa- 
tion, but  the  enemy  evidently  felt  sure  of  their 
power  or  they  would  not  have  dared  to  invoke 
the  Secret  Service.  Of  course,  many  of  Cur- 
lew's acts  were  unlawful,  but  so  were  those  of 
all  concerned.  The  purpose  of  his  arrest  was 
to  stop  his  fight,  not  to  punish  him.  If  he  were 
ever  dragged  into  court  there  would  be  an  in- 
ternational scandal  of  real  proportions.  The 
United  States  is  not  the  only  power  which  is 
involved. 

"The  District  Attorney  has  his  instructions 
and  I  soon  saw  that  I  should  have  no  trouble 
with  him.  Curlew  is  to  be  released  on  condi- 

290 


THE  FILIBUSTER 

tion  of  leaving  the  country  and  not  returning 
for  at  least  three  years.  That  leaves  his  ene- 
mies free  to  control  the  Washington  condition. 
They  tried  to  keep  him  out  of  Costa  Rica  but 
Curlew  stood  pat  on  that.  He  swore  that  he 
should  at  least  have  a  chance  to  go  back  there 
and  fight,  even  against  the  United  States,  for 
his  valuable  concessions.  So  I  judge  from  my 
conference  with  the  District  Attorney  that  that 
will  be  permitted. 

"Curlew  says  that  they  will  try  to  put  him 
out  of  the  way  as  soon  as  he  lands  there. 

"  'But/  he  says,  'if  I'm  willing  to  put  my 
head  in  the  lion's  mouth,  I  guess  they  can  con- 
cede me  the  privilege.  Of  course,  they  know 
that  I'm  still  pretty  strong  with  the  big  little 
bugs  down  there.  They  don't  like  to  see  me 
go  back,  but  I'm  going.' 

"So  we  gave  them  an  ultimatum  that  if  they 
didn't  release  him  in  twenty-four  hours,  we'd 
get  him  out  legally  and  give  a  full  statement 
to  the  newspapers.  Just  now  the  wires  are 
very  hot  between  here  and  Washington  and  the 

291 


IN  THE  DABK 

District  Attorney  assures  me  that  everything 
will  be  straightened  out  by  nightfall. 

"That's  Curlew's  story  in  brief,"  finished 
Carfax;  "so  that  those  anxious  for  his  safety 
and  those  anxious  to  see  him  out  of  the  country 
may  both  feel  relieved. ' ' 

"What  were  the  messages  he  sent?"  asked 
Harbury. 

"One,"  replied  George,  "was  to  the  lady  with 
the  ruby  ring." 

Gwenn  held  up  her  hand. 

"He  said  to  tell  her  that  he  had  a  dim  idea 
of  who  she  was  and  he  sent  her  his  humblest 
apologies  and  utmost  admiration.  He  said  that 
he  remembered  a  day,  years  ago,  when  two 
little  girls  were  attacked  by  a  cross  dog  in  front 
of  his  father's  house.  He  said  he  remembered 
that  a  little  girl  called  Gwenn  stood  in  front 
of  her  sister  Dorothy  and  struck  at  the  dog 
with  a  stick  until  his  father  ran  up  and  drove 
the  dog  away." 

"I'd  forgotten  all  about  that,"  said  Gwenn. 
"I  was  a  very  little  girl  then." 

292 


THE  FILIBUSTER 

"I  remember  it,"  said  Dorothy.  "I  was 
scared  to  death.  You  certainly  always  were 
the  brave  one,  Gwenn!" 

" Curlew  said,"  continued  George,  "that 
when  he  remembered  that  incident  last  night 
a  lot  of  things  cleared  up  for  him.  He  also 
said  that  he  realized  that  he  was  likely  to  be 
an  outlaw  all  his  life,  hunted  and  hunting;  that 
it  was  his  nature;  that  he  should  never  try  to 
drag  a  woman  into  such  a  life.  He  said  to 
tell  the  lady  of  the  ring  that  she  need  not  worry, 
that  he  would  never  trouble  her  again,  but  that 
if  he  lived,  some  day  he  might  come  back  for  a 
friendly  visit." 

Both  Gwenn  and  Dorothy  suddenly  produced 
kerchiefs,  to  my  considerable  surprise.  Even 
Harbury  seemed  quite  upset  and  murmured 
something  about:  "Poor  fellow!" 

"I  have  also  a  message  for  you,"  said  Car- 
fax, turning  abruptly  upon  me.  "Curlew  said 
to  tell  you  that  your  methods  had  puzzled  him 
a  bit  but  he  had  finally  decided  that  you  meant 
all  right." 

293 


IN  THE  DAKK 

*  *  That 's  decent  of  him, ' '  I  said  half -laughing. 
"Any  more  kind  words?" 

"Yes,  one  thing  further.  He  said  to  tell  you 
that  he  believed  you  had  shown  better  judg- 
ment in  your  pursuit  of  romance  than  he  had — 
whatever  that  means." 

Both  Gwenn  and  Dorothy  blushed  rather 
noticeably. 

"Now,"  said  Carfax,  rising,  "your  lunch- 
eon is  coming  and  I  must  be  going." 

As  he  started  away,  I  stopped  him  and,  out 
of  hearing  of  the  others,  said : 

"Now  I've  a  little  surprise  for  you.  Edith 
was  looking  for  you  a  little  while  ago  and  I 
promised  to  send  you  to  the  'Tapestry  Boom* 
if  I  saw  you.  I  couldn't  well  invite  her  to  join 
our  party  but  I  thought  someone  ought  to  take 
her  to  lunch." 

"If  she  is  so  fascinated  by  'E.  H.,'  "  he  said 
slowly,  looking  away  from  me,  "I  should  think 
she  would  enjoy  lunching  with  you." 

"I  think  perhaps  we  exaggerated  her  fond- 
ness for  *R.  H.,'  "  I  answered. 

294 


THE  FILIBUSTER 

"Or,  what's  more  to  the  point,  perhaps  she 
did,"  he  suggested,  this  time  meeting  my  eye 
squarely. 

"I'm  quite  sure  she  did;  also  I  think  she  is 
a  bit  hungry  for  a  lunch,  with  her  own  hus- 
band!" 

"I  had  an  important  engagement,"  he  said. 
"But  I'll  telephone  and  break  that." 

He  twisted  his  head  a  bit  to  one  side  and 
twinkled  his  eyes  at  me. 

"Quite  a  day  for  clearing  up  troubles,  isn't 
it,  Gilbert?  Next  floor,  you  say?  I'll  go  up 
as  soon  as  I  telephone.  No,  I  guess  I'll  tele- 
phone afterwards.  Thanks  for  the  tip!" 

He  shook  hands  warmly. 

Having  disposed  of  my  family,  I  went  back 
to  Gwenn  and  hers. 


295 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

GWENN   EXPLAINS 

UNTIL  the  end  of  the  meal  I  behaved  very 
patiently,  talking  with  false  sprightliness 
about  many  inconsequential  things. 

"When  am  I  going  to  hear  the  story?"  I 
finally  demanded  of  Gwenn,  in  an  undertone. 

"How  impatient  you  are!"  she  whispered. 

"Oh,  very!"  I  chuckled.  "It's  quite  inspir- 
ing to  take  things  on  faith,  but  really,  if  the 
need  for  mystery  is  over  I'd  like  to  ask  about 
fifty  questions,  just  to  satisfy  an  absorbing 
curiosity. ' ' 

"If  for  no  other  reason?"  she  insinutaed. 

"And  for  other  reasons,"  I  assented. 

"Perhaps,"  she  said,  to  the  others,  "if  I 
explain  about  Mr.  Curlew  now,  you  can  vouch 
for  the  accuracy  of  the  story.  I'm  sure  Mr. 
Winston  deserves  an  authenticated  version." 

296 


GWENN  EXPLAINS 

"Go  ahead,"  said  Harbury.  "We'll  back 
you  up." 

Harbury  and  I  lit  cigars.  Dorothy  posed 
herself  to  her  own  satisfaction  and  Gwenn  be- 
gan her  story  after  the  accepted  manner  of 
fairy  tales. 

"Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  in  a  small 
town  in  Michigan  two  very  good  young  girls 
named  Dorothy  and  Gwenn  Fenton  and  a  very 
bad  boy  named  James  Curlew.  Dorothy  and 
James  were  a  little  older  than  Gwenn  and  paid 
very  little  attention  to  her,  most  of  their  at- 
tention being  paid  to  each  other.  They  were 
what  would  be  called,  inseparables,  only,  as  they 
grew  older,  Dorothy  became  more  and  more 
good — " 

"Don't  tease,"  interrupted  Dot. 

" — and  James  became  'worser  and  worser.' 
He  was  called  the  bad  boy  of  the  town.  He 
was  never  really  bad  and  indeed  had  a  most 
generous  disposition.  But  he  was  always  in 
mischief  and  always  losing  his  temper  in  times 
of  trouble,  and  breaking  something,  or  hurt- 

297 


IK  THE  DAEK 

ing  somebody.  So,  as  is  sure  to  happen  in  a 
small  town,  his  reputation  was  far  worse  than 
he  deserved. 

"After  he  had  graduated  from  a  big  engineer- 
ing school  and  done  quite  a  little  creditable 
work  in  his  profession  everyone  supposed  that 
he  and  Dorothy  would  marry.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  they  probably  would  have  married — " 
Gwenn  glanced  maliciously  at  Harbury —  "but 
Dorothy  was  afraid  of  him!  She  had  learned 
to  dread  his  tempers  I" 

"It  was  just  a  boy  and  girl  affair  anyhow," 
interrupted  Dorothy.  "Only,  Jim  was  the  kind 
who  never  changed.  He  felt  that  after  we  grew 
up  we  must  stick  together  just  as  we  had  as 
children.  I  was  afraid  of  him — and  then  as 
I  grew  up  I  looked  at  things  differently.  I 
knew  we  weren't  really  suited  to  each  other. 
But  Jim  couldn't  believe  it.  He  thought  that 
the  gossip  and  scandal  about  him  had  prej- 
udiced me.  I  was  foolish  and  didn't  dare  to 
tell  him  right  out  so  I  talked  about  his  making 

298 


GWENN  EXPLAINS 

a  name  for  himself  first  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.'* 

"One  autumn,"  continued  Gwenn,  "Jim  came 
home  for  a  few  weeks  between  a  job  he  had 
just  finished  and  one  he  expected  to  go  out 
on.  He  was  very  cross  at  Dot  and  started  trail- 
ing with  the  'gay'  crowd  in  town.  Of  course, 
it  wasn't  really  'gay'  but  it  shocked  the  town 
with  its  little  escapades.  In  the  'gang'  was 
Joe  Denny,  the  teller  in  the  bank,  who  was  one 
of  Jim's  old  pals. 

* '  Of  course,  the  stories  about  Jim  grew  thick 
and  fast.  Some  said  he  had  made  a  pile  of 
money  and  was  throwing  it  away.  Others  said 
he  was  broke  and  was  sponging  on  the  rest. 

"Then  one  night  the  bank  was  robbed.  Joe 
Denny  was  immediately  suspected,  on  account 
of  these  silly  sprees  in  which  he  had  taken  part. 
Also  circumstances  indicated  some  accomplice 
in  the  bank.  Joe  was  arrested  and,  to  every- 
one's surprise,  refused  to  explain  his  where- 
abouts on  the  evening  in  question.  Curlew  was 

299 


IN  THE  DAEK 

called  in  and  he  not  only  swore  that  he  knew 
Joe  was  innocent  but  he  also  refused  to  detail 
his  actions  at  the  time  of  the  robbery.  The 
town  immediately  took  sides  but  mostly  against 
Jim  and  Joe.  Soon  there  was  talk  of  arresting 
Jim,  although  there  was  not  a  particle  of  evi- 
dence to  connect  him  with  the  affair  except  his 
friendship  with  Joe  and  his  refusal  to  talk. 
Jim  announced  publicly  that  if  anybody  tried 
to  arrest  him  it  would  be  the  hardest  job  he 
had  ever  tackled.  That  didn't  help.  One 
night  the  sheriff  heard  some  strange  rumors 
and  hurried  out  to  Curlew's  house.  He  lived 
with  a  married  sister  at  the  edge  of  town. 

' 'They  had  a  terrible  row,  which  ended  when 
the  sheriff  tried  to  arrest  Jim.  Jim  hurt  him 
badly  with  a  fire-shaker  and  then,  realizing  the 
danger  of  his  position,  fled  away  from  town, 
and  in  fact,  as  we  afterwards  learned,  skipped 
the  country  by  a  boat  from  New  Orleans.  Of 
course,  everyone  thought  immediately  of  Can- 
ada, so  Jim,  who  never  lacked  brains,  went  just 
the  other  way. 

300 


GWENN  EXPLAINS 

" Jim's  flight  almost  convicted  Joe  Denny, 
but  after  a  long  trial  he  was  found  'not  guilty* 
and  about  three  years  later  the  real  robbers 
were  caught  in  another  job  and  the  whole  thing 
cleared  up.  The  sheriff  even  admitted  he  had 
given  a  man  of  Jim's  temper  great  provoca- 
tion and  practically  exonerated  him.  Then  the 
truth  about  why  Jim  and  Joe  were  silent  came 
out  and  the  sentiment  of  the  town  changed  com- 
pletely. 

"I  don't  remember  all  the  details  but  some 
of  the  boys  in  the  'gay'  crowd  had  been  on  some 
wild  expedition  that  night  with  a  few  very 
nice  girls.  It  was  all  probably  innocent  enough 
but  exposure  of  it  in  connection  with  this  sensa- 
tional robbery  would  have  held  them  up  to  the 
scorn  of  every  gossip  within  a  hundred  miles. 
Jim  Curlew  and  Joe  Denny  were  just  the  kind 
of  fellows  who  would  go  to  jail  before  they'd 
bring  disgrace  on  girls  for  whose  actions  they 
were  responsible.  The  story  never  got  out  un- 
til one  of  the  girls  was  married  and  told  her 
husband. ' ' 

301 


IN  THE  DARK 

"That  wasn't  I,"  said  Dorothy,  hastily,  "I 
wasn't  on  that  expedition.  Then,  I  wasn't 
married  until  a  year  after  the  news  got  out. 
We  were  married  secretly,  Mr.  Winston.  You 
see  every  now  and  then  I  would  get  letters 
from  Jim,  mailed  from  somewhere  where  he 
wasn't,  telling  me  he  would  come  back  soon. 
I  couldn't  write  him  how  I  felt.  The  night  he 
left  he  ran  up  to  my  house  and  just  said :  '  I  'm 
skipping  town,  Dot.  But  I'm  all  right  and  I'll 
come  back.  Wait  for  me.' 

"I  was  all  knocked  in  a  heap  and  trying  to 
get  my  breath,  when  he  came  running  back, 
scowling  dreadfully. 

"  'You'll  stick  by  me,  won't  you,  Dot?'  he 
demanded. 

"Of  course,  I  was  scared  to  death  and  said, 
'yes.' 

"  'If  I  come  back  and  find  you  married  I'll 
kill  him!'  he  said — 'and  may  be  you,  too!'  He 
looked  as  if  he  meant  it! 

"Shall  I  go  on,  Gwenn?"  she  asked. 

Gwenn  smiled  and  answered: 
302 


GWENN  EXPLAINS 

"Yes,  you  tell  your  own  romance." 

"Well,  I  had  met  Bex  in  Detroit,"  said 
Dorothy.  "And  we  had  become  engaged.  No- 
body at  home  knew  anything  about  it.  Father 
had  died  and  Gwenn  and  I  were  left  alone. 
Father  had  had  an  interest  in  the  mills  and 
some  other  investments,  so  we  had  enough  to 
live  on  but  no  relatives  left  to  keep  us  hi  the 
old  place.  Then  I  got  a  letter  from  Jim  say- 
ing that  he  was  coming  home.  Joe  Denny 
had  somehow  let  him  know  that  everything 
was  all  right.  I  was  in  a  panic. 

"We  talked  it  over  with  Bex  and  then  Gwenn 
and  I  packed  up  quietly  and  sent  all  our  things 
to  Cleveland  and  after  we  arrived  there  we  sent 
back  a  notice  to  the  paper  saying  that  we  had 
gone  to  Cleveland  to  live.  That  was  so  as  to 
leave  a  false  trail  for  Jim  to  follow. 

"From  Cleveland  we  went  right  away  to  De- 
troit, where  I  was  married.  Gwenn  stayed  with 
us  for  a  while,  calling  herself  Miss  Littlefield, 
so  as  not  to  have  any  casual  mention  of  her 
name  reach  Jim.  Then  she  went  to  Chicago. 

303 


IN  THE  DABK 

She  was  bound  to  do  something,  herself.  No 
one  back  home  knew  a  thing  about  us  and  my 
married  name  made  me  safe  unless  I  actually 
met  Jim  on  the  street.  Of  course,  I  had  to  risk 
that,  but  it  wasn't  likely  to  happen. 

"Keally,  Mr.  Winston,  you  may  think  me  a 
fool  but  if  you  had  seen  Jim's  expression  that 
last  night  I  think  you  would  have  been  scared, 
too!" 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  I  said,  smiling.  "I  re- 
member his  expression  the  night  he  broke  into 
my  apartment  and  he  looked  *  murder',  sure 
enough.  By  the  way,  how  about  the  ring?  I 
don't  yet  see  why  Curlew  should  have  mistaken 
Gwenn  for  Mrs.  Harbury  since  he  knew  you 
both  so  well." 

"It  was  the  ring  that  did  it,"  explained 
Gwenn.  "It  was  mother's  and  Dorothy  had  al- 
ways worn  it  but  when  we  were  planning  to 
escape  from  Jim  she  started  to  take  it  off. ' ' 

"You  see  I  might  change  my  way  of  doing 
my  hair,  style  of  dress  and  such  things,"  said 
Dorothy.  "I  was  certain  to  grow  older  and 

304 


GWENN  EXPLAINS 

perhaps  heavier,  so  in  time  Jim  wouldn't  be 
sure  of  me — but  the  ring  would  always  give 
me  away." 

"I  thought  it  wouldn't  do  me  any  harm," 
continued  Gwenn,  "and,  being  mother's,  I 
wanted  to  wear  it.  So  I  took  it.  Then,  of 
course,  Jim  Curlew  saw  it  through  the  porch 
window  the  night  you  rescued  me.  He  prob- 
ably couldn't  see  my  face  very  well  but  could 
see  the  ring  on  my  hand  as  it  hung  down  over 
the  chair  arm." 

"But,"  I  persisted,  "he  should  have  known 
you  at  a  glance  in  Winkler's." 

"He  was  puzzled,"  said  Gwenn.  "Don't  you 
remember?  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  look  more 
as  Dorothy  looked  a  few  years  ago  than  she 
does  herself.  You  see  she  has  grown  stouter. 
I  still  do  my  hair  the  way  she  did  then.  We 
looked  very  much  alike  as  little  girls  though 
she  was  older.  But  Curlew  remembered  her 
as  she  had  been  when  he  left  her.  Do  you  re- 
member his  surprise  when  he  pulled  off  the 
ring?  It  had  always  stuck  at  the  joint." 

305 


IN  THE  DAEK 

"He  used  to  pull  it  off  to  tease  me,"  said 
Dot,  with  a  simper. 

"My  joint  is  evidently  a  trifle  smaller  be- 
cause it  slipped  right  off  my  finger,"  reminded 
her  sister.  "That  staggered  him." 

"Then  he  thought  it  over  during  the  night 
and  remembered  about  the  little  girl  who  fought 
the  dog,"  I  remarked,  half  aside  to  Gwenn. 

"I  don't  see  what  that  had  to  do  with  it," 
she  said  perplexedly. 

Harbury  took  out  a  time-table  and  he  and 
Dorothy  began  a  low-voiced  discussion  of 
trains. 

'  *  I  do, ' '  I  whispered.  ' '  After  all  this  mystery 
it's  odd  that  I  should  be  able  to  solve  the  last 
question." 

"But  it  had  nothing  whatsoever  to  do  with  his 
troubles,"  she  answered.  "Unless  he  suddenly 
remembered  something  about  how  I  looked, 
or—" 

"It  wasn't  how  you  looked,"  I  said,  "he  re- 
membered how  you  acted.  He  remembered 
that  there  was  a  little  girl  who  stood  bravely  in 

306 


GWENN  EXPLAINS 

front  of  her  scared  older  sister  and  fought  for 
her.  He  saw  that  the  little  girl  had  done  it 
again.  And  he  suddenly  realized  that  the 
older  girl  had  always  shrunk  from  danger.  He 
realized — " 

Reproving  fingers  were  laid  lightly  across  my 
mouth.  There  were  very  few  people  left  in  the 
dining  room  and  the  discreet  waiter  was  facing 
away  from  us.  I  continued  speaking  through 
the  pleasant  barrier. 

1  'So  he  said  that  I  had  shown  better  judg- 
ment than  he  in  my  pursuit  of  romance — bet- 
ter luck  than  judgment,  I  think,  since  I  was 
so  much — " 

"In  the  dark?"  she  suggested. 

"Exactly.  It  seems  almost  humiliating  that 
one  should  blunder  into  such  good  fortune." 

"Still  it  took  courage  to  blunder  along — in 
the  dark." 

She  was  very  near  to  me  and  her  gray  eyes 
were  very  deep. 

"Not  much  courage,"  I  answered,  "just  good 
eyesight. ' ' 

307 


IN  THE  DAEK 

Somehow  my  hand  closed  over  hers.  I 
leaned  closer  and  her  eyes  grew  deeper,  as 
when  a  cloud  passes  over  a  sunny  pool — 

Harbury  coughed  correctively. 

Confound  the  family! 

"Just  for  that,"  I  announced,  "you  shall  be 
really  scandalized.  We  hereby  declare  our- 
selves a  free  and  independent  state!  Witness 
our  hand  and  seal ! ' ' 

Dorothy  and  Bex  were  redder  than  we.  But 
the  declaration  was  a  distinct  success. 


THE    END 


308 


The  following  pages  are  devoted  to 
comments  on  "The  Shadow  Men,"  an 
unusual  book  by  the  same  author. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "IN  THE  DARK' 

THE  SHADOW  MEN 

By  Donald  Richberg 

A  modern  romance  that  sparkles  with  wit 
and  humor.  It  is  the  story  of  a  scapegoat 's 
struggle  to  evade  apparent  destiny,  inspired 
by  his  love  for  a  woman  and  aided  by  a  loyal 
friend.  Charming  as  a  romance,  the  book 
compels  serious  consideration  for  its  criti- 
cisms of  commercial  and  legal  ideals  and 
practices.  It  is  not  a  " muck-raking"  book, 
but  a  story  to  hold  the  interest  of  every  in- 
telligent reader.  Seldom  does  any  novel  re- 
ceive such  strong  commendation  as  the  fol- 
lowing opinions  on  the  book : 

"A  gripping  piece  of  fiction,  bordering  on  the  human 
document." — Book  Review  Digest. 

"A  well  written  and  absorbing  story.  .  .  .  The  book  ends 
with  a  thrilling  trial." — St.  Louis  Dispatch. 

"  'The  Shadow  Men'  is  one  of  the  really  strong  publi- 
cations of  recent  days.  It  is  worth  while.  It  is  interesting 


even   to   absorption   and   its   doctrines   are   wholesome." — 
Charleston  (S.  C.)  News. 

"If  one  is  interested  in  the  tale  of  how  the  great  corpo- 
rations protect  themselves  from  the  law  by  offering  sub- 
ordinates as  a  sacrifice,  this  story  will  be  found  extremely 
interesting.  The  breezy  style  of  the  author  is  sufficiently 
persuasive  in  the  ironic  quality  of  the  narrative  to  give 
considerable  pleasure  and  the  inevitable  undercurrent  of 
love  interest  has  been  pleasantly  varied  in  this  novel  to 
suit  the  jaded  palate  of  modern  fiction  readers." — Boston 
Herald. 

"Apart  from  the  excellent  execution  of  the  underlying 
purpose  of  the  book  it  possesses  the  interest  of  a  dramatic 
tale  well  told." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"In  many  respects  a  remarkable  book.  ...  It  will  inter- 
est many  and  some  will  regard  it  as  the  worthiest  novel  that 
has  appeared  in  many  a  day.  It  is  a  book  of  realities  per- 
sistent and  conflicting." — Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"A  convincing  story — very  remarkable  because  of  the  di- 
rect and  simple  way  it  is  told." — Chicago  Evening  Post. 

"A  big  story.  You  will  like  this  book.  It  is  full  of  good 
stuff." — Cleveland  Plain  Dealer. 

"The  revelation  is  powerful  and  painful,  and  it  is  made 
in  a  way  to  enthrall  the  reader  and  hold  him  to  the  end. 
In  other  words,  it  is  not  a  revelation  merely,  but  an  en- 
trancing story  exceptional  in  more  senses  than  one.  John 
Byford,  the  hero,  is  unusual.  The  situations  are  unusual 


and  the  style  very  much  so.  There  is  a  constant  flow  of 
wit  and  metaphor  and  there  are  flashes  of  psychological 
insight,  but  the  one  term  that  best  characterizes  the  book  is 
spontaneity.  It  comes  of  itself  out  of  a  full  mind  and 
heart." — Boston  Evening  Transcript. 

"It  is  a  record  of  shrewd,  successful  rascality  and  is  in- 
vested with  clean,  ironic  humor." — Dallas  News. 

"The  trial  scene,  in  which  Byf  ord's  attorney  piles  up  the 
baleful  suggestion  of  the  'shadow  men'  who  are  the  real 
criminals,  is  an  admirable  piece  of  writing.  The  charac- 
ters are  original  and  individual,  and  the  'Americanism'  of 
the  girl  is  well  done.  The  revelation  of  constant  compro- 
mise in  business  and  professional  life  bears  the  earmarks 
of  truth  and  the  stamp  of  inner  knowledge." — New  York 
Evening  Post. 

"  'The  Shadow  Men'  cannot  fail  to  interest.  The  tale 
contains  enough  truth  to  make  it  a  startling  eye-opener  to 
the  abuses  inflicted  by  the  'shadow  men.' " — Newark  Even- 
ing News. 

"A  powerfully  fashioned  novel." — Portland  Oregonian. 

"A  terrific  arraignment  of  a  'man  higher  up.'  The  au- 
thor has  a  terse  and  vigorous  style." — St.  Louis  Post-Dis- 
patch. 

"Occasionally  a  novel  is  written  to  which  the  enthusiastic 
reviewer's  hackneyed  phrase,  'Well  worth  reading,'  is  truly 
applicable.  And  this  is  the  case  with  Donald  Richberg's 
'The  Shadow  Men' — a  powerful  story  ...  by  an  author 


possessed  of  that  rare  combination,  ability  to  write  and  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  what  he  is  writing  about.  ...  It 
is  a  real  human,  breathing  narrative." — Philadelphia  Press. 

"The  book  is  entertaining,  very." — Spokane  Spokesman- 
Review. 

"A  novel  of  firm,  well-knit  fiber,  of  intensity  and  the 
urge  of  higher  business  ideals.  The  characters  are  vital, 
living  human  beings,  sternly  in  earnest,  with  a  wide  and 
sane  vision  of  life  and  its  fellowship  obligations.  There 
are  some  notably  dramatic  incidents,  well  handled,  and  the 
plot  shows  remarkable  technical  balance,  a  vigor  of  style 
and  a  seriousness  of  artistic  as  well  as  of  ethical  purpose. 
It  has  such  a  note  of  universal  appeal  as  to  lift  it  high 
above  the  light  boudoir  fiction  of  the  day.  There  is  charm 
as  well  as  vigor  in  the  author's  terse,  clean-cut  literary 
style." — The  Chicago  Daily  News. 

"'The  Shadow  Men'  is  a  story  brilliantly  written,  with 
lots  of  life  and  'go,'  crowded  with  incidents,  and  sparkling 
with  epigrams.  It  is  not  only  an  enthralling  story,  but  it 
throws  a  strong  beam  of  light  into  a  little-understood  de- 
partment of  modern  iniquity.  I  hope  that  the  book  will 
attract  attention,  and  wipe  the  scales  from  the  eyes  of  the 
public." — Professor  E.  A.  Ross,  University  of  Wisconsin, 
Author  of  "Sin  and  Society." 

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